


Fear of the Inevitable

by Katef



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-02-24
Packaged: 2018-09-26 17:03:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 23,823
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9912488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katef/pseuds/Katef
Summary: After Blair accepts the badge, he discovers that, far from rebuilding his friendship with Jim, their relationship worsens.  Driven to put distance between him and his Sentinel, can he find what it will take to bring them together again?





	

**Author's Note:**

> Although this story is much older than my new 'A Fear of Abandonment', having been first posted to ASR3 in October 2012, I realised that it could almost be considered as a companion piece, so I dusted it off and posted it here also. This story is post series, and focussed primarily on Jim's insecurities, whereas 'Abandonment' is an AU which focusses on a young Blair's issues; but comparing them, I wonder which one I now find more convincing?
> 
> What do you think?  
> K x

**Part 1: Blair:**   


With a weary sigh, Detective Blair Sandburg unlocked the door of #307, 852 Prospect and entered the empty apartment on dragging feet. His pale face was drawn and etched with the signs of a mental and physical exhaustion which was bone deep, and a remote part of his consciousness was relieved that for now he was spared the necessity of assuming a pretence of cheerful equilibrium which had become an automatic habit in the presence of his roommate. Toeing off his sneakers, and shrugging out of his waterproof jacket, he shuffled towards the kitchen, intending to make himself some tea, or perhaps to prepare a fresh pot of coffee. However, on reaching the kitchen, he found himself too fatigued to bother, so reached into the refrigerator to snag a bottle of beer instead. 

Popping off the cap, he took a deep swallow of the cold liquid, then moved over to the couch, where he plopped down with another sigh, resting his socked feet on the coffee table in defiance of whatever-the-shit house-rule number, and leant his heavy head against the cushioned back. 

Truth be told, he was grateful for a few hours simply to relax and be himself. Not that being himself in his present state was anything to be admired or enjoyed, but at least he wasn’t under any immediate pressure to don his customary easy-going façade or overstrain his admittedly considerable acting ability. No, he knew that his roommate Detective Jim Ellison – police partner, Sentinel and the secret love of his life would be out for most of the evening, celebrating Major Crimes’ successful take-down of one of Cascade’s most dangerous drug dealers that very afternoon. 

Sure, he could have joined in with his colleagues at Barney’s Bar, but instead had begged off, pleading a headache quite truthfully for once, as he had no stomach or energy left to do his ‘party animal’ thing. And he couldn’t help the wry grimace that quirked his mouth as he recalled Jim’s indifferent response to his statement. 

“Sure, Chief. Why don’t you get back to the loft and have an early night. I’ll see you in the morning” and Jim had turned back to continue his animated conversation with H and Rafe, totally unaware of the pained and disappointed expression that had flashed across his partner’s face at the careless dismissal. 

If Blair had but known, at least two of the gang had noted – and been angered – by yet another indication that Ellison was taking the younger man for granted, but Joel and Megan knew only too well that bringing their complaints to Jim’s notice would most likely exacerbate an already damaged and strained relationship. 

Tiredly contemplating the bust, Blair was well aware that he had angered Jim yet again, despite the fact that his actions had possibly saved the older man from injury, or perhaps even death. 

The department had spent long hours and considerable energy in gathering evidence against Mulligan, determined to close down his drug smuggling and dealing empire, and the sting they had painstakingly set up this afternoon had been a resounding success despite the brief fire fight that had preceded the arrest of the drug baron and his cronies. 

Rubbing his forehead with fingers and thumb, Blair recalled how he and Jim had approached the dockside warehouse and his horror when Jim had been momentarily incapacitated by a whiff of spilt chemicals which had caused a now rare sensory spike and mini zone. Without thought, Blair had slipped into Guide mode and darted across the space between them, pushing his partner down and out of the line of fire even as he used voice and touch to help his Sentinel bring his senses under control. However, Jim, far from being grateful, had turned on the younger man once the operation had concluded, haranguing Blair for what he considered to be unnecessary stupidity. 

“Jeez, Sandburg! What the hell were you playing at? I told you to stay back and watch out for Mulligan’s goons! You could have jeopardised the whole operation! Or gotten yourself killed! I didn’t need you to come out after me!” 

And Blair had been too tired and dispirited to point out that it was his role as Guide to help his Sentinel, and that said Sentinel was the one who could well have been killed. And there had been even less point in mentioning that he was official now, and no longer the legitimate target of, “You’re not a cop, Sandburg,” from either Jim or Simon Banks. No way was he going to ‘stay in the truck’ – as if he ever had anyway. 

Sure, the feisty grad student he had once been would have snapped, snarled and then tried to reason with his Sentinel, his genuine desire to protect and cherish the man too deeply rooted to ignore. But recent events had upset their balance, shaking their relationship to its very core, and he was well aware of his own culpability in creating that scenario. 

Taking another swig from his drink, Blair leaned back again, clutching the rapidly warming bottle to his chest. Willingly or no, he knew that he needed to spend some time revisiting the events of the last few months, however painful the recollection, because he was equally sure that the time had come to make some potentially life-changing decisions. Decisions that could well save his sanity and his very life, even as they broke his heart, because he knew for sure he couldn’t continue the way he was, fading daily little by little until Blair Sandburg was no more, and the pitiful ghost he was becoming was all that remained.  


\------------------------  


**Nine months previously:**  


“I’m not cutting my hair! I’m _not...”_ Blair had protested, struggling against the noogie Jim wanted to treat him to, his emotions veering wildly from hurt to puzzlement to astonished joy even as his subconscious warned him that the amazing offer of a badge was probably completely unworkable. 

Having dropped by at the Major Crimes bullpen to leave his observer’s pass on Simon’s desk, he had been touched by Joel’s gentle questioning regarding his presence, and the overt concern on the big detective’s face. But it was nothing compared to his shock when the area was invaded by Jim, a wheelchair-bound Simon Banks and the rest of the MCU gang. And Naomi. His mother, and unwittingly the main culprit in provoking the ‘diss disaster’. 

Cut to the quick by Jim’s unsubtle joke at Blair being ‘finished in the department’ only to attempt to alleviate his young roommate’s stricken expression by adding the rider ‘as an observer’, Blair had been totally overwhelmed when he had caught the wallet containing a detective’s shield, so casually tossed to him, and snatched back almost immediately by Simon. 

His own whispered, “I don’t deserve this,” had been countered by the older man’s growled, “No you don’t! Not until you’ve been to the academy...” and he hadn’t known whether to smile or cry in response. 

Much of the ensuing scene had become blurred in retrospect, but Blair could clearly recall his mother’s guilt-driven sorrow even as she tried her hardest to be happy for him. She knew that she was at least partly responsible for driving her brilliant, beloved and gentle son into a career she considered to be so unsuitable for him, and so despised by herself. She had left immediately after the gathering broke up, her smile wavering and eyes bright with unshed tears as she explained that she was going to a friend’s retreat in New Mexico to ‘process’ everything that had transpired, and face up to her actions. 

And he hadn’t seen or heard from her since. 

Rubbing a hand over his face, Blair realised that his feelings for Naomi were still ambivalent. Sure, he still loved her, as he had been at pains to reassure her after the shit hit the fan with the release of the dissertation, but he honestly couldn’t say that he truly forgave her. Her compulsion to interfere in his life with the best possible intentions had backfired disastrously with her sending the diss to Sid Graham. However, in all honesty Blair knew that she couldn’t have foreseen that the unscrupulous publisher would have defied even Blair’s own demands and leaked his material anyway. And the awful consequences had been compounded by Chancellor Edwards’ actions, such that Blair’s downfall had been rapid and inevitable, even as the fallout had been totally unexpected. 

In truth, there had been a very faint ‘silver lining’ in the dark clouds hovering over his ruined academic career, which had come in the form of his old mentor, Dr Eli Stoddard. Stoddard had known Blair throughout his long association at Rainier, and was convinced of his former student’s integrity even as he believed he understood the reasons behind the young man’s self-immolation. With the help of another friend and supporter, former CIA agent Jack Kelso, he had encouraged Blair to stand up for himself, and gain at least a partial remission for his academic ‘sins’. And indeed Blair had recognised that it was a necessity if he was to take up Simon’s badge offer. With a tiny smile, Blair remembered his surprise and gratitude when Stoddard had turned up unexpectedly at the loft. 

As Eli had seated himself and accepted the cup of tea a shaken and anxious Blair had handed him, he had wasted no time in outlining the reason for his visit. 

“Now my boy, I apologise for dropping by unexpectedly like this, but I didn’t want to risk you declining my request to meet with you thinking that I was coming here to lambast you for that press conference.” 

When Blair had tried to respond, Eli merely held up an admonishing finger as he continued, “Blair, you were always one of my favourite students, not only because of your brilliance, but because of your irrepressible thirst for knowledge and your dedication to and enthusiasm for your study subjects. It simply isn’t in you to lie about your academic goals and achievements, even though I’m well aware of your talent for ‘obfuscation’ in social situations when circumstances demand it,” and here he had chuckled gently before saying, “For years I’ve watched and listened to you enthusing over Sentinel studies, and your Detective Ellison in particular, and I’m perfectly capable of putting two and two together. 

“Now, don’t worry,” he added quickly as Blair had made to deny his claim. “I have no intention of trying to talk you out of your actions. I understand why you denied your work, and I admire your courage even if I think it’s a crying shame. I just hope that Detective Ellison realises just how lucky he is.” 

And he had gone on to outline the course of action he and Kelso proposed that Blair take to assuage the worst of the damage done, sadly contemplating the faint spark of hope that dawned in his devastated young friend’s eyes. 

Although still emotionally shaken by the past few days’ events, Blair had quickly accepted the reasoning behind his old mentor’s suggestions, so had wasted no more time in pursuing and obtaining an adequate out-of-court settlement from Berkshire Publishing with Kelso’s help and advice. He had also received a public apology from Rainier on behalf of Chancellor Edwards for the unauthorised release of his intellectual property, and the admission that the Sentinel paper had never in fact been submitted as Blair’s dissertation. 

However, he had resolutely refrained from claiming that his Sentinel study was any more than the fiction he had declared it to be, needing above all to protect Jim from any more harassment from the media. 

As far as the PD was concerned, officially Jim was out of the public spotlight; simply the victim of his roommate’s overactive imagination; but Blair was uncomfortably aware that more than a few folks outside of Major Crimes were still looking askance at Jim’s performance in the field, and his more than impressive arrest and conviction rate. 

As for Blair himself, he had been pathetically grateful for the continuing friendship and support he received from a few close colleagues in the bullpen, although there were more who considered him to be criminally naive for allowing the whole incident to blow up in the first place. 

Having said that, he was also aware that he had garnered some grudging respect from yet others for doing his best to remedy the situation as soon as possible for the sake of his partner. 

And so he had gone to the Academy, hoping and praying that it was what Jim truly wanted for him, for his own sake and because Jim cared, and not some well-meant but misguided consolation prize for doing the right thing.  


\------------------------  


Rolling his aching head from side to side against the cushions in a vain attempt to get more comfortable, Blair dropped his now empty bottle down on the floor beside him as he relived his weeks at the Academy, completing the abbreviated course plus firearms and unarmed combat training. 

Determined to prove that Jim’s faith in him wasn’t unfounded, Blair had thrown himself into his new studies with his customary enthusiasm, not surprisingly acing all written papers from which he didn’t automatically test out. He had even had his hair cut despite his previous protestations, believing that the sacrifice would be worth it if it eased his passage through the Academy, although he couldn’t quite bring himself to have anything like the customary buzz cut worn by most cadets. 

What he didn’t know was that the action had secretly horrified Jim, who had had his own reasons for wanting Sandburg to keep his silky locks, but who hadn’t had the nerve to mention it. It wasn’t as if the younger man didn’t have to deal with enough emotional pressure on so many counts already that he needed more from his partner. 

He had amazed himself by discovering a real aptitude for marksmanship even if the concept of carrying still made him uncomfortable. He simply told himself that it was to back up Jim, and left it at that even though he prayed he would never have to actually use his weapon to kill another human being. 

He did manage to get more than his fair share of bumps and bruises during unarmed combat training, thanks to the unwelcome attentions of a few fellow rookies who had it in for him, but he resolutely kept his injuries from Jim’s attention, needing to deal with the situation on his own. 

And as it turned out, he had had far less hassle than he might have expected, partly because many of his younger classmates neither knew nor cared about the diss debacle, and yet others had cause to be grateful to him for volunteering to help them with troublesome test papers on his own time. Indeed, he had overheard one conversation in particular whilst hidden behind the lockers in the changing rooms which had caused a lump of emotion to rise unbidden in his throat. 

Following a particularly exhausting training session where Blair had been pitted yet again against one of his most belligerent detractors, he had finally managed to put the much bigger man down for the first time, something which had given him a small buzz of grim satisfaction. He was well aware that the shock and shame of his unexpected defeat wouldn’t improve Cadet Gunnerson’s attitude towards him, but for once he was grateful that he had come out on top. 

Having taken a shower after the class, and searching through his locker for his clean underwear, he heard Gunnerson’s angry voice raised in heated conversation with another cadet whose verbal response identified him to Blair as Michael Kowalski; a young man who had had problems with his written tests and who had benefitted from Blair’s willing tuition. 

“I’m telling you, Mickey, that little shit Sandburg doesn’t belong here! He’s a self–proclaimed fraud, my uncle says, who got his jollies following the Major Crimes detectives around and lapping up the praise while he was hiding behind Ellison’s skirts. Why the hell does he deserve a place, huh? Tell me that!” 

Biting his lip in shame at the comments, Blair’s head jerked up at Kowalski’s more measured response. 

“You’re out of line, Gunnerson. Whatever Blair may or may not have done, he’s really clever. In case you hadn’t noticed, he aced all the written tests, and he really helped me with mine. Came right out and offered – didn’t even need asking. And I know for sure he’s helped quite a few others here too. 

“I think you’ll find that he has a lot more folks standing up for him than you and your gang of bigots.” 

“How can you say that?” blustered Gunnerson. “That little pansy boy’s no match for a real man. He doesn’t belong on the street, and he definitely doesn’t deserve a free pass up to MCU!” 

“You’re talking bullshit, Gunnerson. I happen to know that his scores on the firing range are better than yours – and mine for that matter. And didn’t he just put you on your back? Not bad for a pansy boy, huh?” 

“That wasn’t fair. I overbalanced,” muttered Gunnerson. “But I’ll tell you this Mickey!” he added ominously. “If that little shit gets his detective’s shield, I for one won’t be in any hurry to help if he calls for backup!” 

“And I’ll remember you said that if it ever happens, Gunnerson,” replied Kowalski, his tone all the deadlier because of its steadiness and resolve. 

“And you can be sure I won’t hold back from letting Ellison and Captain Banks know it either. Now, get out of my way, and if you’ve got any sense, leave Blair alone. Because if you don’t, you might well find that he turns out to be way more popular than you and your buddies,” and he pushed his way past Gunnerson and out of the locker room, leaving a bemused but extraordinarily grateful Blair in his wake. 

And so Blair had completed his training, ending up in the top three in every discipline. He had been proud and happy with his success, truly believing that he had finally lived up to Jim’s expectations, and hoping for a miraculous return to their early camaraderie, all their troubles and conflicts put behind them once and for all. He even dared to believe that he might get the opportunity to finally declare his love for Jim the man rather than Jim the Sentinel. 

And he couldn’t have been more wrong in his assumption.  


\------------------------  


Looking back, Blair knew that their problems were rooted way further back than the diss fiasco. Indeed, even before the appearance of Alex Barnes and the fountain episode. But he had honestly thought that by becoming Jim’s official partner they could begin to mend their broken fences and come to a genuine understanding and appreciation of each other, only to discover that it all seemed to be one-sided. And it appeared that he had made a terrible mistake. 

With silent tears beginning to track down his pale cheeks, Blair faced up to everything that had transpired since Jim had deliberately gone against his express wishes and read that opening chapter. 

He could still vividly recall Jim’s hurt and anger, and indeed could genuinely sympathise, because the words had been necessarily clinical and cold in keeping with a scientific paper. Of course that was the precise reason why he hadn’t wanted his friend to see it, intending to present only the completed article for Jim’s approval. A paper that had been fleshed out and rendered comfortable for the older man to digest. 

Blair was certain now that things would have turned out far worse that night if not for the appearance of the strange homeless man who had called himself ‘Gabe’, and who had apparently spoken to Jim. Whatever he had said had given the detective pause for thought, and they had made up after Blair had been rescued from a potential captor and escapee. 

However, Blair now realised that Jim hadn’t actually forgiven him at all, and had jealously hoarded his distrust and hurt, hiding it deep within himself until further perceived mistakes on Blair’s part added to the critical mass until it spilled over in harsh words and even the threat of breaking up their partnership. 

And then there was Alex. Gods! What a disaster that had been, and how badly he had fucked up. He supposed he couldn’t justifiably maintain his anger at Naomi’s mistake in comparison to his own, wryly considering that both Sandburgs had been guilty of crass stupidity despite having the very best of intentions. 

But he truly hadn’t intended to keep Alex a secret at first. He had tried to tell Jim, but Jim had blown him off, too wrapped up in his own reactions to the rogue Sentinel’s presence. So he had decided to keep his subjects separate for their own protection, and it had blown up in his face. 

And even after the fountain episode, Jim had refused to talk, making it all too obvious that he didn’t want or accept the deep spiritual connection that had formed between Sentinel and Guide. 

By now completely unable to prevent the tears streaming continuously down his face, Blair was lost in a downward spiral of uncontrollable despair and depression, his cringing mind subject to vision after vision of hurt and disappointment despite his vain efforts to pull out of the despised pity party. 

Scenes of Jim making love to Alex on that beach, then kissing her in front of Megan and Blair, while they knelt bound and helpless on the temple floor. 

Scenes of Simon and Jim belittling him and ignoring him over the Ventriss case even though he had been in the right. 

Scenes of Jim leaving him hanging in the wind after denying seeing Molly’s ghost, making Blair the undeserving butt of the other MCU detectives’ jokes. 

Scenes of the anger and abuse hurled at him after the diss disaster, with Jim accusing him of going for the brass ring, fame and fortune. 

Yet he might still have recovered from all those hurts given his abiding love for Jim, warts and all, if only things had turned out as he had hoped after becoming Jim’s official partner. 

But it simply hadn’t happened. 

They now barely spoke above mundane platitudes in the loft, with Blair spending more and more time in his small bedroom, trying to keep out of Jim’s way unless the older man went out, which was now an increasingly frequent occurrence. He still did his fair share of chores without complaint, and cooked regularly, but never managed to eat much of it himself, his appetite long gone and his bodyweight dropping alarmingly. 

At the PD or in the street Jim seemed more irritated than grateful to have Blair at his back, and compliments were few and grudgingly given, proof positive to the younger man that Jim was regretting his decision to push Simon into making that badge offer. 

It couldn’t go on. For both their sakes, Blair knew now that he had to go: leave Jim and the loft and put space between them to try and give them both a chance to heal without the constant pain that their continuing proximity caused them. 

Decision made, Blair relaxed again, a plan of action forming in his mind. He would write a letter of resignation to give to Simon tomorrow, and in the morning he would ring Naomi to see if he could visit awhile. He would pack a few necessities in his car, and leave the rest here, hoping that Jim wouldn’t mind until he found somewhere to stay and could move his stuff out. And if Jim simply shoved it all into boxes and threw it out anyway, well, it wouldn’t be the first time. 

Finally giving in to his exhaustion, he allowed himself to rest for a while longer before putting his plan into action, and sank quickly into a deep slumber, his last conscious thought concerned with wondering if you could actually hear your own heart breaking...?  


\------------------------  


**Jim:**  


Later that evening Jim returned home, quietly turning the key in the lock so as not to wake his flatmate. Automatically sending out his hearing, he had been pleased to find that Blair was already asleep, although not apparently in his own room. Nevertheless, Jim was relieved that he wouldn’t have to put up with the usual inquisition as to why he was back so soon from what had promised to be a fairly late night of celebration for the department. Grimacing, he knew that he ought to be grateful for the younger man’s continuing concern for him, despite the shabby way Jim had been treating him lately, but truth be told he had no desire to ‘fess up to the reason for his leaving the bar early. 

As he carefully made his way over to the kitchen through the darkness which was no barrier to Sentinel vision, he glanced over at his sleeping partner, only to stop short in dismay at the sight that met his eyes. 

With a deepening frown creasing his brow, he took the time to really look at Blair for the first time in many weeks, and he didn’t like what he could see. 

Blair’s face was marked with drying tear tracks, and despite his slumber, his face was far from peaceful. Not only that, but in the faint glow of the street lights, deep shadows beneath bruised-looking eye sockets were testament to rapid weight loss, pale skin stretched tightly over high and too-prominent cheekbones. 

Moving closer, Jim let his hand hover over Blair’s lax body, and was genuinely horrified at the unhealthy slenderness of the compact frame, recalling only too vividly how little his partner seemed to eat in recent weeks. 

Well, fuck! Megan had been quite right. He really was treating Blair like shit, and the decent part of him admitted it and warned him it was about time he did something to remedy the situation before it was too late. 

On the other hand, a small and sneaky inner voice claimed that he had had reason, and that Sandburg wasn’t as pure as the driven snow. 

But he still hadn’t deserved the sort of treatment meted out to him by his so-called partner and best friend, and Jim was stricken by a wave of guilt and sorrow to behold the evidence of his deliberate neglect. 

Jaw clenched in simmering anger, mostly self-directed, he replayed the earlier conversation at the bar which had annoyed and upset him so much that he had made his excuses and left in high dudgeon, well aware of the speculative glances that had followed his retreating back out of the door.  


\--------------------------  


From his position at the bar, where he was engaged in light-hearted banter with H and Rafe, Jim had seen Megan look up and meet his gaze, the light of battle in her eyes. He could almost pinpoint the instant that she decided that enough was enough, and she was going to confront him come what may. As she had stalked across the floor, moving single-mindedly past the other detectives and officers present, H had muttered, “Oh, oh! Looks like Connor wants a word with you, Jimbo. ‘Scuse me while I pay a visit to the little boys’ room!” and he had edged away, grimacing in sympathy as Rafe and Jim glanced quizzically at each other and then at H’s back as he ducked around the approaching Australian exchange officer. 

“So, Jimbo. Where’s Sandy? I saw him here earlier and I wanted to congratulate him on a job well done this afternoon,” she began without preamble. “I saw him pull you out of whatever little ‘condition’ you were in. What did you think you were doing throwing a tanty like that afterwards in front of everybody? It’s not like he doesn’t have enough shit thrown at him from the other drongos in the PD without your bloody ingratitude also. I thought you wanted him as your permanent partner – we all did! Yet every time he does his job like he’s supposed to, do you thank him? Not bloody likely! You treated him better when he was a civilian observer. Explain it to me, Jimbo. I’d really like to know!” 

While she was speaking, Rafe backed away slightly, not wanting to get involved in what could turn out to be an acrimonious slanging match. Truthfully, he knew that he hadn’t been the most sympathetic supporter for Sandburg during the diss fiasco, for which he felt not a little guilt. But he sure didn’t want to be targeted by Megan when she was in full avenger mode, determined to right any and all wrongs visited on the junior detective. 

“Where do you get off with criticising me like that, Connor?” demanded Jim angrily. “I told Sandburg to stay back and watch for Mulligan’s goons coming in the back way! He could have blown everything following me in! He should do his job and obey his senior partner’s orders!” 

“Funny”, hissed Megan furiously, by now nearly nose-to-nose with Jim. “I thought his primary job was as _Guide_ to his _Sentinel!”_

Taking in Jim’s furtive glance to right and left, obviously worried about being overheard, she snorted disdainfully before continuing, “Oh come on, Ellison! Can you really tell me that you don’t know it’s common knowledge? For Pete’s sake, mate, there’s no-one here with half a working brain cell that doesn’t know there’s something special between you and Sandy. If he’s still taking flak, it’s not because most folks think he lied at that press conference – it’s simply because some of them think he was too careless about letting the secret out!” 

Just then Simon stepped over to them, glaring repressively at Megan as he growled, “That’s enough, Connor! This is no place to be talking about Jim and Blair’s relationship, so just give it a rest, huh? And if I have to make it an order, consider it done!” 

With ill grace, Megan nodded brusquely and turned on her heel, but not without a final scorching glare at Jim. 

Watching her go, Simon murmured, “You OK, Jim?” not liking the shell-shocked expression on his friend’s ashen face. 

“Do they really all know?” muttered Jim worriedly. “Have I really been ‘out’ all this time anyway?” and when he noted Simon’s somewhat sheepish expression and tiny nod of affirmation, he sighed and said, “Well, shit! So much for enhanced hearing, huh? Or maybe I just didn’t want to know. And so much for Blair’s hanging himself out to dry! He needn’t have bothered...” 

And with a quick nod to Banks, he spun around and stalked out of the bar, suddenly needing to see his Guide and partner, although he didn’t know what he was going to say to the younger man when he found him.  


\-----------------------  


Returning to the present, Jim sank down on the sofa opposite his partner, feeling compelled to watch over the smaller man for a while, and needing to take a little time to get his thoughts in order, grimly aware that he had been deliberately avoiding the situation for far too long. 

Sighing in resignation, he faced up to the fact that he had failed his partner in so many ways, allowing the younger man to make all the running when it came to trying to maintain their friendship over the past months. He acknowledged the fact that he had used his anger and hurt over the damned dissertation to cloud his judgement, and was ruefully aware that Blair had hit the nail on the head when he had identified Jim’s propensity to suffer from ‘fear responses’. 

But hell, Blair should have been more careful. He should have realised that his interfering mother could get into his computer and access the file. He had no right to leave Jim’s name in it for whatever reason. And why _didn’t_ he go for fame and fortune? It’s what he was in it for anyway, wasn’t he? Jim felt his anger burgeoning again and was shaken at the realisation that his notoriously short fuse seemed to be growing even shorter. 

He abruptly clamped down on that line of thought, recognising once and for all that it was his damned fear responses again which had attributed such mercenary characteristics to his undeserving friend. Sure, Blair had never denied that he wanted to use data from his study of Jim to authenticate his diss, but time and time again he had put off submitting the thing because he wanted to stay with Jim. To stay on the rollercoaster instead of returning to the academic merry-go-round. And hadn’t he admitted that it was about friendship when he had turned down the Borneo expedition? 

And Jim couldn’t for the life of him remember if he had actually thanked Blair or even acknowledged his words. 

Staring hard at Blair’s worn features, Jim tried to recall the last time the kid had bounced with enthusiasm over anything. When had he stopped being the irritating but entertaining ‘Energiser Bunny’ and become the sad-faced shadow who kept to his room rather than enjoy watching a jags game with Jim, munching popcorn and making ribald comments? Was it after the first time Jim had accused him of being untrustworthy? Or around about the time Jim had thrown him out and got him killed? 

Perhaps it was after he had witnessed Jim making out with his murderer on that beach? 

Suddenly unable to stand his own guilty feelings any longer, Jim stood up and turned to climb the stairs to bed. _Enough already, Ellison! Think about it tomorrow once you’ve had some sleep. There’ll be time enough to start putting things right when you’re both rested. Then perhaps you can begin to be the friend Blair deserves._  


\---------------------  


Later that night Jim heard Blair rouse and creep to his room, and the Sentinel made out the soft tapping of Blair’s laptop keyboard. He had the uneasy feeling that he ought to go down and check on his partner; perhaps wish him goodnight, and tell him Jim had missed his company at Barney’s. But once again his discomfort with words and emotional scenes made a coward out of him, and he turned over, determinedly shutting out the almost soundless sobs and slightly elevated heartbeats that accompanied the typing. No, he would respect Blair’s privacy and wait until morning and start afresh. He would make breakfast, and they would talk.... 

Decision made, Jim settled down to sleep, so deeply for once that he missed the furtive sounds of his partner stuffing his backpack and duffel, then moving almost silently to the kitchen to place an envelope on the countertop. He also failed to hear the muffled click of the latch as Blair let himself out of the loft, descending the stairs and exiting 852. He was still sound asleep when Blair threw his bags into the back of the pre-owned but reliable SUV he had treated himself to when he had received his settlement from Berkshire Publishing, to drive directly over to the PD. 

And he didn’t find out until several hours later that Blair had gone straight up to the MCU bullpen and had left his service weapon, badge and letter of resignation on Simon’s desk before leaving Cascade, crying continuously but determined to put as many miles between him and his beloved Sentinel as he could before morning.  


\----------------------  


**Following morning, the loft:**  


Jim woke up with a start, at least half an hour before his pre-set ‘internal alarm’, and knew instantly that something was wrong. Sending out his hearing, he failed to pick up Blair’s soothing heartbeats from the small bedroom below, and the loft seemed ominously quiet. Sure, he reasoned, Blair could simply have got up extra early to get some paperwork out of the way at the PD, but in all fairness, it wasn’t really likely. His partner had never been a ‘morning person’, normally needing a lot of persuasion and a good dose of caffeine before he was up and running. And in hindsight Jim acknowledged that the younger man had seemed more exhausted of late, such that getting him out of bed was even more of a hardship than usual. 

Jumping out of bed, Jim padded quickly down the stairs, and stuck his head round the French doors to Blair’s room, only to recoil in shock at the neatly made bed and the uncharacteristic tidiness of the place. Filled with foreboding, he glanced in the bathroom and saw that most of Blair’s toiletries were gone, so he hurried to the kitchen, intending to call Simon to see if he knew anything about the situation when he was pulled up short by the envelope lying on the countertop. 

Reaching out a trembling hand, he opened it and pulled out a single sheet of paper, obviously typed on Blair’s laptop, and spotted in one or two places as if something had dripped on it. Sniffing delicately, Jim was unsurprised to scent the saline of his roommate’s tears, and a lump arose in his throat so that he had to swallow several times before he could bring himself to read the contents. 

And when he did, he felt his knees buckling, forcing him to sink down onto one of the kitchen chairs as his legs gave way beneath him. 

_Dear Jim_ it began.  


_I’m so sorry to spring this on you in such a cowardly way, but I’m afraid there was no alternative as far as I’m concerned. I know it’s shabby, but I simply don’t have the nerve or the energy any more for a full-blown confrontation between us. I’m so sorry, man._

I‘m sorry for outstaying my welcome by several years, and I’m sorry for all the trouble I caused with Naomi’s help. I’m sorry I misunderstood your reasons for offering me that badge also. I truly thought that being your official partner would help us build bridges over that chasm which had been opening up between us for so long, but I guess I was wrong there too. I fucked up too much and too often for you to do anything more than tolerate me, but I really appreciate your making the effort, Jim. 

You don’t need me any more for the senses, but you do need a partner you can trust, and I’m sure Simon will make sure you’re OK on the street. And Megan knows enough to help you on the rare occasions when you need a bit of guidance so you’ll be fine, man. 

By the time you read this, I should be long gone from Cascade, and Simon will have received my letter of resignation. 

Please don’t be too angry with me, Jim. I love you, man, and that’s why I’m going. You need your space and your life back without your annoying roomie, and I need to try and find somewhere I can heal. I’m so tired, Jim. I can’t do this anymore. But I’ll never forget you. You’re the best friend I ever had, and probably ever will have. 

Forgive me if you can, 

Love you always 

Blair. 

Stunned and reeling, Jim read the letter twice more, vainly hoping he had misunderstood the contents. However, when the words finally sank in, he sat motionless for an unknown length of time, his horror and disbelief sending him into what amounted to a mini zone as his mind refused to process what he had read. 

It was the urgent ringing of the cordless phone beside him which snapped him out of it, and he grabbed the handset yelling, “Sandburg? That you? Where the hell are you...?” only to be answered by another familiar yell as Simon demanded, “What the hell is going on, Ellison? Why have I got Blair’s badge and weapon on my desk, and why have I just read his letter of resignation? I’m coming over to the loft right now, and we’re going to talk about this. Be ready!” So saying, he slammed the phone down on Jim, leaving the stunned man staring at the inoffensive instrument in his hand for long seconds before he hurled it against the wall with all his strength. 

Glowering at the shattered remains littering the floor, Jim roused abruptly from his shocked stupor and gave in to his fury, his reaction to his partner’s treachery burning through heart and soul as several more articles followed the handset in a destructive tantrum.  


\--------------------------  


By the time the scent of cigars and rapid footsteps heralded Simon’s arrival at #307, Jim had worked himself into a fine old state, but now his initial rage had turned deep and cold; freezing within him as he clutched his self-righteous hurt to himself. When he opened the door to his Captain, Banks’ own anger was swiftly derailed at the sight of his detective and friend, and he almost took an involuntary step backwards at the steely and implacable glare directed at him. 

“Well shit, Jim,” he murmured. “No wonder Blair didn’t hang around to tell you his news face to face. He must have known you’d react like this, and decided he’d prefer to keep his skin intact. Poor kid didn’t need this on top of everything else!” 

“You going to lecture me, Simon, or are you going to help me track down the treacherous little shit? I’m not putting up with this, Simon. If he has something to say to me, then I want to hear it in person! Just where does he think he’s getting off running away like this with his tail between his legs?” 

“Jim, _Jim_ , can you _hear_ yourself? Calm down, man, and think with your head for a change instead of being ruled by your anger and fear responses! Yes,” he continued at Jim’s astonished double-take, “I _do_ know about fear responses. And don’t blame Blair either! I _made_ him let me read a copy of the Sentinel paper because I needed to know as much about you as possible just in case this very thing happened. 

“I had a bad feeling that things were going to blow up between you two despite all Blair’s good intentions, and I wanted to be ready for when the shit hit the fan. 

“So, sit down and I’ll make us some coffee, and then we’re going to talk, Jim. Sensibly and calmly. And I can’t believe I just said that,” he muttered with a humourless grimace as he stalked over to the kitchen.  


\---------------------------  


Long minutes later Simon allowed himself a surreptitious sigh as he saw Jim’s shoulders relax infinitesimally; and he realised that Jim-the-man was reasserting himself once again over Jim-the-aggrieved-Sentinel. Although he recognised that ‘calm and collected’ was hardly second nature for him, Banks had forced himself to assume that role for as long as it took for Jim to settle enough to discuss the situation rationally. 

Putting his empty coffee mug down on the counter, he addressed Jim quietly, saying, “Can I see that letter, Jim? I’d like to see what Blair wrote if you don’t mind, then I can tell you what he wrote to me. Perhaps between us we can make some sense out of where the kid was coming from, eh?” and he reached over and snagged the paper from its resting place on the countertop. 

Quickly reading the letter, Simon felt himself unaccustomedly choked at the heart-felt words, and once again was compelled to confront just what they had tried to force on the kid. Except he wasn’t a kid any longer. In a couple of weeks, Blair would turn thirty, and what would the young man have to show for it? 

A failed academic career where once he had shone like a bright comet, and a roommate and partner who had come to resent his very presence even though he needed that presence like a starving man needs sustenance. And he knew he hadn’t helped any, and why was that? 

Sighing in painful recollection, Simon relived the innumerable times he had snapped and snarled at Blair, irritated by his intelligence even as he was forced to accept the freely-given off-the-wall observations which only too often had born fruit in puzzling cases. 

Just how many times had he snapped, ‘You’re not a cop, Sandburg’, and yet once Blair had earned that badge, had Simon really backed him up the way he should have as a junior team member? He had a horrible feeling that he had simply sat back, congratulating himself for his foresight and leadership, assuming that Ellison and Sandburg were now a proper team and comfortable in their official partnership. 

Sighing deeply, Simon sat back and gazed speculatively at Jim for a long moment before speaking. 

“OK, Jim. I know how hard this is for you, but we have to discuss this. Blair means a lot to me too, even though I’ve been less than open in showing it. And he deserves so much more from both of us!” he continued forcibly, needing to get his point over to his friend. 

“Christ, Jim, did it really need Megan going off on you last night for you to realise just how shaky Blair really was? And I’m just as guilty. I chose not to notice his physical frailty even though I realise now that he’s looked paler and unhappier every day. I just thought that it was a natural but temporary reaction to a new job he hadn’t reckoned on, and I have to say, Jim, that I rather assumed you’d be helping him through it – offering support and advice. I was wrong, wasn’t I?” 

Staring perplexedly at his friend and Captain for a moment, Jim finally averted his gaze and leaned forwards, resting his forearms on his thighs as he stared at the floor between his knees, wrestling with the harsh truths which he only now acknowledged. 

So softly that Simon had to strain to make out the words, Jim said, “Yes, you were wrong, Simon. I haven’t been there for Blair for months now, even before the whole diss mess. And it’s long past time I was honest with myself. He’s always done his best, even if he’s made mistakes, but I haven’t ever cut him any slack. It’s always been about me. Me and my senses. I see that now, now that it’s too late. Why, Simon? How can he write that he still loves me when I’ve treated him like shit? You’re right of course. He deserved far better from both of us. And now it’s too late. 

“And how am I going to manage without him? Tell me that, Simon! He’s right insofar as I could probably manage my senses without him, but how am I supposed to live? He’s been everything to me for so long I’ve taken it for granted. Helper, companion, entertainer, backup, whatever. And what did I give him back? Bad temper, indifference. Hell, neither of us even gave a thought to his academic life! Just thought it was unimportant – not a real job!” 

When Simon nodded in unhappy agreement, he added softly, “And the only thing I can think of to set things right is to leave him be. Leave him space to ‘find himself’ again without me breathing down his neck. Let him get himself a life. 

“But Christ – I’m going to miss him! I don’t know how I’ll live without him!” and the proud man bent his head and allowed the tears to flow, knowing that his Captain and friend was in complete sympathy with him.  


\---------------------  


Over the coming weeks Jim’s life gradually settled once more into a routine, but it wasn’t one that gave him any real pleasure or respite. At the PD he worked long hours with grim determination, needing to occupy his mind as much as possible, knowing that unwanted leisure time, especially that spent alone in the loft only led to automatic thoughts of Blair, followed by depression and self-recrimination. 

At those times, he constantly worried as to Blair’s health and happiness, afraid that the younger man might be suffering alone and untended in some distant and impersonal motel room. And when such frightening visions tormented his imagination, he was torn between trying to track Blair down to satisfy or confirm his suspicions, and needing to stick to his initial decision to leave the other man alone to heal in his own time. His concern was only alleviated somewhat when he eventually received a postcard from his friend, apparently posted in Albuquerque and simply saying that Blair was ‘fine’ and was spending time with Naomi. There were no details as to the pair’s actual location, just a brief declaration of love and the hope that Jim was in good health. 

Raising the card to his nose, Jim breathed in the minute traces of Blair’s much-missed scent, feeling at one and the same time both deep loss and also relief as his senses instantly settled, comforted and grounded by the warm fragrance.  


\-----------------------------  


Arriving in the bullpen the next day, Simon called him in to his office, first offering Jim a mug of his speciality coffee, then saying, “You look different today, Jim. A bit happier. Have you heard anything?” 

And Jim had offered a tiny smile as he replied, “Yeah, Simon. I got a postcard from Blair yesterday. He says he’s OK, and is spending some time with Naomi, probably somewhere in New Mexico, but he didn’t specify where. I’m just relieved to have heard from him – that he’s all right. I have to admit I’ve been really worried about him. I mean, he wasn’t exactly in the best of health when he left, so it’s good to know that he’s with his Mom. Naomi’s a flake, but she loves him, and she’ll take care of him.” 

“That’s good news, Jim. Perhaps you’ll be able to relax a bit also, huh? Now you know he’s not alone, and has someone to look out for him.” 

“Yeah, I guess so, Simon. I was worried that he’d just let himself go, you know? I mean, it’s not like he has the sort of support system I have, even if some of it’s grudgingly given,” and here he grinned sardonically at the recollection of some of the exchanges he had had with Megan and a few other members of Blair’s unofficial fan club. A club that Blair, being Blair, had always been completely unaware of, never considering that he could possibly be worthy of such concern and friendship. 

Grimacing himself, Simon continued, “Sure, but things are improving on that front, aren’t they? I mean, I know Joel in particular has been on your case about Blair’s leaving, and why. And Connor’s never going to forgive you completely even if she’s prepared to do her duty and work with you on occasion. 

“But H and Rafe seem to be OK with you, and I have to admit that there are a few members of the unit who never wanted Blair to get a badge anyway.” 

“You’re right, Simon. I have heard the occasional not-so-sympathetic comment, and yes, I am actually listening now, not like before,” he answered, with not a little self-deprecation. 

“But I’ve also overheard plenty of speculation about the whole Sentinel issue. And you know what? Connor was quite right. Most people had already guessed that there was something in it, and, more to the point, hardly anyone is in the least bit concerned, unless it’s about how Blair fell on his sword to protect me. 

“Some Sentinel I turned out to be, huh? Gabe was right you know,” and at Simon’s quizzical expression he explained. “That odd homeless guy who got shot the night Megan got to go crocodile-hunting. And I read Blair’s opening chapter when he’d asked me not to,” he added quietly, pausing for a second before continuing. 

“Anyhow, this Gabe character said something like, what good was it for me to have the ability to see for miles, if I couldn’t see what was in my heart – or right in front of my nose,” he muttered grimly. 

“And I couldn’t. Couldn’t or wouldn’t see what Blair was to me. What a good friend he really was, and how loyal he was. Sure, he made some pretty bad errors of judgement, but never maliciously, and he didn’t deserve my treatment of him. Or my accusations about his untrustworthiness. Shit, Simon, if anyone was untrustworthy, it was me! Look how I betrayed him making out with that Barnes bitch! And right in front of him, too!” 

“Hey now, Jim,” murmured Simon soothingly, “Don’t start that again, man. I know how you feel, Jim, and I fully sympathise, but I didn’t call you in to start rubbing salt into old wounds. If you want to talk some more tonight, let’s go for a few beers, and I’ll listen for as long as you want me to, OK?” 

“Yeah, OK, Simon. And thanks. Thanks for being here for me and listening to me. Again! And a few beers tonight sounds like a plan.” And with a slightly happier smile, Jim rose to his feet and returned to his desk, grateful for his old friend’s constant support and understanding.  


\----------------------------  


**Taos, New Mexico:**  


Raising his arms above his head, Blair stretched luxuriously for a moment as he eased gently out of his meditative state, sitting cross-legged on the back porch of Naomi’s small but pretty cottage. The view across some of New Mexico’s most beautiful landscape was stunning, and as always he couldn’t help but appreciate its calming influence on his troubled mind. Breathing deeply, he considered how he felt, subjecting himself to as clinical a self-analysis as he was capable, knowing that Naomi would be treating him to her usual sympathetic but persuasive brand of inquisition when she returned from the Native American pueblo village just outside of nearby Taos. 

Smiling slightly, Blair huffed a little in amused irritation at his parent’s predictability, but knew he was grateful for her attention anyway. Even if Naomi had never been much of a traditional ‘mommy figure’ during his itinerant youth, he had always been sure of her love for him, and their friendship unquestioned despite her frequent absences. 

And he was so grateful for her support over the last terrible weeks. Weeks when he truly believed he would go mad with grief and longing for Jim if left to his own devices, perhaps even fading away entirely without her gentle but determined feeding of him; refusing outright to allow him to neglect himself further on her watch. 

Looking down at his hands clasped loosely in his lap, Blair continued his self-examination. Physically, he was tan from long hours spent in the New Mexico sunshine, wirily fit through working in the vegetable plots of the small community to which Naomi’s cottage retreat belonged. He was definitely still underweight, his appetite remaining poor even though he now ate for his Mom’s sake, not wanting her to worry any more on that count. But he supposed that he probably looked healthy enough now, as she no longer studied him with such concern when she thought he wasn’t looking. 

He was certainly calmer now, having become more accepting of his situation, thanks not only to Naomi’s help and support, but also that of the other members of the tiny commune. And especially John Two Rivers – Naomi’s latest spiritual adviser, and a gifted shaman. 

John lived in the old pueblo village when not out communing with nature, and Blair knew that Naomi’s latest visit was at least in part to seek John’s advice regarding her son’s future. He suspected that the wise old man wouldn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know, but he appreciated her efforts on his behalf. Both he and John knew that what passed between them was for themselves alone, but neither of them could fault Naomi for her genuine concern. 

Breathing deeply again, Blair closed his eyes and recalled their most recent meeting just two days ago, out on the high rock platform which was John’s favourite meditation spot. A meeting that had provided much food for thought, and also the realisation that he was rapidly approaching the point where a vital decision would have to be made. But as to what path he would ultimately choose to take, that much was still unclear, and he was ruefully aware that much depended on the quality and depth of his inherent courage and conviction.  


\-------------------------------  


**Two days previously:**  


Huffing slightly from exertion, Blair slowly climbed up to the plateau where John’s chosen meditation site was located. Enjoying the sun’s early morning warmth which was still comfortable at this hour, Blair crested the ridge and stood respectfully in silence until the elderly Native American chose to bring himself out of the meditative state which he would undoubtedly have been in for many hours. Appreciating the serenity of the moment, Blair took advantage of the opportunity to observe the other man as he rose gradually to full awareness. 

John sat cross-legged on a colourful rug, swaying slightly as he chanted almost sub-vocally; lips barely moving in his peaceful face. Blair had no idea as to John’s actual age, although he suspected that the man was considerably older than he appeared. 

His broad features were deeply lined and scored; weathered by a harsh, outdoor lifestyle, and his long, straight hair was liberally streaked with grey. However, he stood tall and straight, his limbs endowed with a whipcord strength, and when he awoke his eyes would twinkle with bright intelligence whilst regarding his visitor with the ancient wisdom of a shaman. 

Sensible of the beneficial effects of John’s untroubled calm projected onto his own unsettled thoughts, Blair relaxed a little more, breathing deeply and content to wait patiently until his presence was acknowledged. 

Eventually a deep sigh of contentment heralded John’s return to the present, and the dark eyes opened to gaze shrewdly at his young visitor. A small smile of welcome stretched his lips as he spoke. 

“Welcome, young Wolf. You seem calmer this morning. What do you wish to learn?” 

“I wish to hear whatever you have to tell me, Old Father. I await your teaching,” replied Blair, the response formally polite but unmistakably sincere. 

The other man’s smile widened as he beckoned to Blair, indicating that he sit in front of him on the blanket. Waiting patiently until his visitor was settled comfortably cross-legged before him, he continued, “All you need to hear has already been revealed to you, young Shaman. It simply requires that you listen!” and his eyes twinkled in gentle humour to offset the scolding words. 

His own eyes reflecting rueful self-mockery, Blair replied, “So you have told me, Shaman, but I’m finding it very hard. As Naomi would say, ‘I hear you’, but we both know that often means nothing!” and his face fell again. 

“I am trying, Old Father. But my head overrules my heart. I feel to the depths of my soul that I have a role to play in this existence – a worthwhile contribution to make. But my head tells me that it is fanciful; unrealistic. I am not strong enough. I broke...” and his voice choked off as he lowered his eyes, angry at himself once again as tears threatened. 

_Gods! Enough already of the self-pity!_

His head jerked up again to meet John’s piercing gaze when he felt a sharp pinch to his upper arm. 

“Yes, enough already!” snapped the older man firmly, even though Blair was sure he hadn’t spoken aloud. 

“It is not your fault, young Shaman, but it _is_ up to you to mend it! 

“When you first came to me weeks ago, you were broken. That much is true. Through no fault of your own, unless because of your own naivety, your soul and body had been burdened beyond bearing with hurts you did not deserve. 

“But now you are healing. Your body regains its strength and your soul is strong enough to accept what needs to be done. 

“Tell me again what you learned when your Watchman came for you...” 

And Blair was compelled to describe everything he remembered. The blue-hued jungle, the beckoning light, his wolf spirit running joyfully towards it only to be pulled up short by the grieving call of Jim’s jaguar. The bliss and amazement of their merge – the blinding flash when they became as one and Blair had been so certain that at last he had realised his true destiny. 

And the slow descent into despair as he was told – and shown – over and over again that Jim didn’t want it. Didn’t want him; not willing or able to take that trip. 

Tailing off, his recollection and explanation done, he jerked back to the present at the feel of a strong hand gripping his shoulder. Wise and sympathetic eyes met his own, which he was embarrassed to find were once again wet with tears. 

“Your Watchman is a fool, Young One. A fool to himself and to you. But it is fear which makes him so. He must be taught – be convinced – and you now have the strength to do it. You simply need to want it enough, and to trust in yourself.” 

Held captive by the older man’s gaze, Blair found himself gradually strengthened through the power of John’s conviction, feeling a faint glimmering of hope, and the first dawning of a self-belief long neglected. 

Long minutes later, Blair finally offered a tiny smile as he said, “Thank you, Old Father. Thank you for your words and your belief in me. I shall think about all you have said, and I promise that I shall do my best to honour your trust.” 

And with that, he took his leave of the Shaman, and made his way back to the cottage; deep in thought, but feeling lighter than he had in many months.  


\------------------------  


His thoughts returning to the present, Blair stood carefully, rolling his shoulders and stretching to ease muscles stiffened from prolonged inactivity. A small grin lit up his face as he heard the click of the front door and the light steps that heralded Naomi’s return, and he stepped into the kitchen to greet her. 

“Good visit, Mom?” he enquired. “You’re looking very happy and content,” and he was genuinely pleased to see her so relaxed, grateful that her natural vivacity was back once again to its normal level. He knew only too well that she had been worried about him, and he sincerely regretted having caused her such grief in the first few days of his stay with her. 

“Yes, thank you, Sweetie,” she replied with a welcoming smile as she moved to hug her son, the action easy and unaffected. Stepping back a little, she cupped Blair’s face between her cool palms as she gazed into his eyes, apparently liking what she read in their depths. 

“I had a lovely long talk with John, Sweetie. We meditated together for a while, and I felt so much better for it. Don’t worry, honey, we didn’t discuss you!” she added with a playful grin, aware that Blair knew as well as she did that the Shaman wouldn’t divulge any private information regarding his ‘clients’, but wanting to tease Blair a little anyway. 

“Having said that,” she continued thoughtfully, “He did mention that you may have something to tell me soon. Does that mean that you’ve come to a decision about where you need to go from here?” 

Covering her hands with his own and lowering them gently, Blair kept hold of them as he led her out onto the veranda again, this time seating her on the old but comfortable swing chair as he settled beside her, sitting sideways so they could maintain their mutual contemplation. 

“John’s right Mom,” he began, realisation dawning that he had indeed already made his decision, and had just needed the added stimulation of his Mom’s question to allow him to embrace the fact and admit it aloud. 

“When we talked about me and Jim, and our spiritual connection – the one Jim refused to acknowledge – John told me I had a choice to make. He’d already told me that if I chose not to go back, then Jim and I would probably do OK on our own, but neither of us would be whole again. Neither of us would reach our potential nor fulfil our true destiny as Sentinel and Guide. 

“But he also said that I had to fight for my right to be Jim’s equal partner in all things. I should have pushed him harder – made him see me and accept me for what I am. And I wasn’t strong enough to do that. 

“It’s OK,” he continued quickly, correctly anticipating Naomi’s automatic impulse to deny his assertion. “He said it wasn’t all my fault. I was already feeling insecure even before my near-drowning, and afterwards, well, we both know my health wasn’t up to much. Jim made no bones about the fact that he hated my dissertation, and bitterly regretted having allowed me to write about him in the first place. It was his need for my help at the outset that forced him to agree. 

“And he refused to talk about what happened with Alex Barnes. He seemed to want me out of the way all the time, as if he was already trying to get his life back without me. And I fell for it. I let him ignore and belittle me because I thought I deserved no better. 

“And when the diss got leaked,” and here he placed a gentle finger against his Mom’s lips, knowing that she wanted to apologise yet again for setting that disaster in motion, “His reaction was no more than I should have expected. Even if you hadn’t sent it to Sid Graham, eventually I was going to have to submit it if I wanted my PhD, and Jim was always uncomfortable about that. Sure, I’d have removed his name from the document, but it wouldn’t take a genius to put two and two together and realise who I’d been studying for all those years, so Jim would still have been recognised, and he knew it. 

“In all honesty, I’d lost my objectivity long before, so my only other option would have been to submit a different diss, but I never got the chance to even discuss it with Jim. Communication was never our strong suit,” and he chuckled ruefully. 

“Anyhow, John convinced me that I am strong enough now to fight for Jim if I want to, and a lot of that is thanks to you both, and the others in the commune. Without your help and support, I hate to think what might have become of me. Thanks, Naomi,” and he pulled her in for a hug. 

Long moments later they released each other and sat back, Naomi clearly wanting to hear what else her beloved son wanted to tell her. 

“So, anyway,” Blair continued, unconsciously squaring his shoulders. “I’ve decided to back to Cascade. Not the PD – yet!” he added when Naomi’s eyes narrowed sceptically. 

“I’ve decided that I was wrong to take that badge. I thought I was doing what was best for all of us, but now I realise it wasn’t for me. Even if Jim hadn’t pushed me away, it’s not the best way to back him up as a Guide should. As his police partner, we had to tackle crime scenes and situations differently, with me frequently being in a completely different place. The last time it happened, Jim zoned, and I had to leave my position to pull him out of it. And he was livid!” he added sadly. 

“Why, the ungrateful p--!” began Naomi forcefully, only for Blair to shake his head even as he offered a small grin of gratitude for her unquestioning support. 

“No, Mom. He was right. From a police perspective, I could have jeopardised the operation. But as a Guide, I could do no different. And that’s what I want to do. Without the encumbrance of a badge. 

“And I think I know how to do it...” and he proceeded to explain how he intended to orchestrate his return.  


\-------------------------  


Some while later, Naomi looked up from her lap where Blair’s hand lay clasped in hers to meet her son’s slightly anxious gaze. During the recitation of his plans, she had studied his face carefully, and only when he wound down did she withdraw her gaze briefly to consider her feelings. Knowing that he needed her input sooner rather than later, she shook herself minutely and composed her features into a smile as she raised her free hand to caress his cheek. 

“Well, Sweetie, you certainly have given this some thought haven’t you? But it’s only now that you’ve actually decided to follow this path?” and he nodded in affirmation, his expression determined yet tempered by a wistful pleading – the child in him still wanting his mother’s approval despite his long-held independence. 

“All right, Sweetie,” she replied, responding to his need even though she was less than convinced that he was making the decision best suited for him personally. _More like putting Jim first again_ , she thought somewhat uncharitably, even as she conceded that it was entirely in character for her son. And in truth she was proud of his unselfish attitude although she remained concerned about the potential for his generosity of spirit rebounding on him and causing yet more pain and grief. 

“So, you do actually have another dissertation almost written that you want to submit? But are you sure Rainier will permit it? After all, Sweetie, you did make them look rather foolish...” 

“Yes, Mom. Like I told Jim ages ago, I had enough material for several dissertations. I just didn’t want to give up the excitement of riding with him, so I kept putting off submitting anything. And I think I sort of recognised even then that the Sentinel topic could have drawbacks, so I cobbled together another diss about closed societies – the ‘Thin Blue Line’ stuff I tried to bullshit Simon with when Jim first introduced me. Just so happened that it came together better than I expected after all. 

“And I think Rainier will let me submit it. After all, they got off pretty lightly with just offering me an apology. Eli Stoddard and Jack Kelso both hinted that I could have taken them to task on several counts even though I didn’t want to then. I just wanted the whole episode over and done with as little further publicity as possible. And if they don’t, I’m sure I can find some other college that will take me on. Eli’s already promised me a good reference should I ever need one. 

“Anyhow, provided I can get my doctorate after all, then I can follow up by topping up my criminology and psychology minors with a view to getting into forensics and profiling. Hopefully, with all that under my belt, I can apply to be taken on as a _bona fide_ consultant at the PD. And I’ll be able to ride with Jim again. If he wants me, that is...” and his words tailed off abruptly as his confidence slipped again and his face clouded with worry and sorrow. 

“Well, if he doesn’t, then more fool him!” snapped Naomi forcefully. “I know where he lives, and I have sage!” she threatened darkly. She was gratified when Blair’s face relaxed again as he chuckled at her words, even though she was actually only half joking. 

“So anyway, honey, are you sure you’ll be OK for money while all this is going on? And where will you stay? Will you go back to Jim and the loft?” 

“I’ll be fine, Mom. I’ve still got the better part of Berkshire’s settlement money left even after paying off my student loans. It’s not megabucks, but it’ll be enough to get me some cheap lodgings for a bit as long as I’m careful. And thanks to you and your generosity, I’ve hardly spent anything since I’ve been here.” 

“I should think not!” came Naomi’s immediate response. “It’s no more than you deserve, Sweetie, and you’ve worked for your keep in the community’s gardens anyway. But when are you going to tell Jim about all these plans? I mean, what if he still refuses to accept your help? You can’t sacrifice the whole of your life to him if he won’t recognise your incredible gift.” 

“Well, as to that, I admit I shan’t be approaching him straight away. I want to make sure things are actually in motion before I spring myself on him – and Simon – again. I want to be coming from as strong a position as I can. And if they turn me down, this time I’ll accept it,” he murmured, voice deepening with barely-suppressed emotion. “Whatever John says, I can only fight for something that has a real chance of being saved when all’s said and done.” 

“I hear that, Sweetie, I really do,” Naomi replied softly, and enfolded him in another warm embrace.  


\-----------------------  


**Part 2: Acceptance:**  


**Jim:**  


Face set in a fierce scowl; Jim slammed through the bullpen doors and stalked towards his desk, followed at a short distance by a grim-faced Megan Connor. With an eye to self-preservation, any and all personnel in the furious detective’s path hastily cleared out of the way to let him pass. Jim’s head pounded with the headache from hell, and his upper arm throbbed with a pain that was out of all proportion to the minor bruise on his bicep. All in all, he was quickly approaching boiling point, and everyone present knew it. 

As his colleagues watched surreptitiously exhibiting a range of emotions from wicked glee to sympathy to outright nervousness, Simon Banks abruptly became aware of the charged atmosphere in his bullpen, and poked his head around his office door. 

“Ellison, Connor, my office. Now!” he ordered, though in a somewhat quieter tone than his normal bellow, in deference to the flinch of discomfort he saw flash across his friend and detective’s face. 

Once his two detectives stood before him, Simon studied Ellison for long moments, his gaze speculative and mouth stretched in a grimace of sympathy as he noted the pain that warred with the anger in Jim’s eyes and the deeply-etched lines of stress that marred the handsome features. 

Flicking his glance to Megan, he saw that the Aussie exchange officer was holding herself rigidly, plainly struggling to contain her aggravation as her eyes bored into her fellow detective’s back. 

With a deep sigh, Simon indicated the seats in front of his desk. 

“OK, you two. Sit. We need to talk,” and he waited with marked impatience as Jim’s face took on a mulish expression. 

“That was an order, _Detective!_ Sit!” and he nodded in grim satisfaction as the other man slumped down in his chair with barely-concealed ill-grace. 

Once Megan had seated herself also, Simon moved to his personal coffee machine. “Anyone for coffee?” he enquired, using the opportunity to gain control of his own frustration. When his detectives declined, he muttered, “Well, I’m having one. A dose of caffeine sounds like a plan right now,” and he took a moment to fill his mug before seating himself behind his desk, wishing yet again that he could light up the cigar that beckoned to him from the leather case beside the blotter. 

“OK, Jim. What’s going on? And don’t say you’re ‘fine’. Anyone with half an eye can tell you’re not. How bad is it?” 

For a moment, Jim struggled with his instinctive urge to tell his friend and Captain to get off his case before the decent and intelligent man within took over and forced him to answer, resignation and no little embarrassment in his expression and tone. 

“I’m sorry, Captain. It’s getting worse. God knows I’ve fought to control the senses, but the fact is, I can’t do it without Blair. I’ve tried to be careful using them sparingly, but it seems like all the progress I’d made is reversed. I honestly thought I didn’t need him anymore, and told him so often enough, but apparently just having him nearby was enough to ground me. I can’t do it anymore, Simon. And if Megan pinches me once more, I’m going to belt her!” and he turned to glare at his occasional partner and reluctant would-be Guide. 

“In your dreams, Jimbo!” she growled in response. “You want to stay in la-la land, you’re welcome, mate! How the hell did Sandy put up with you all this time? He must have the patience of a saint!” 

“Enough, Connor! This isn’t helping!” snapped Simon. “OK, so what happened this time? Was there something particular about this scene that made you react so badly? Give me the full run-down.” 

With a deep sigh, Jim began, sending an almost apologetic glance at Megan. 

“When we got to the scene, Anderson from Homicide was already there. Said there were two bodies to check out, and told me to go ahead and do my ‘human bloodhound thing’ – his words, not mine” he added ill-temperedly. 

“Anyway, I began with sight and smell, using Megan’s voice to ground me, and the next thing I knew, she was pinching my arm and yelling at me to snap out of it. Can we say the rest of the Homicide guys were highly amused? I did eventually get something useful for them to run with – one of the vics had recently been handling the same type of explosives used in last week’s bomb attack – but other than that I wasn’t a whole lot of use. It’s all very well the ‘Sentinel’ thing being an accepted and open secret now, but it’s just not working anymore. I don’t _want_ it to work anymore without Blair!” and he subsided into his seat, tiredly rubbing his aching forehead as he breathed deeply in an attempt to relax. 

“OK, Jim. I’m sorry, and I understand where you’re coming from. I think you’d better take the rest of the afternoon off. Connor can write up your report, and as from now I’m blocking any requests for you to work scenes for other departments. I think it’s time to try and bury this senses business as far as the PD is concerned. 

“But as far as _you_ are concerned, do you think that you can keep them ‘dialled down’ permanently? I know Sandburg said early on that he didn’t think you could turn them off, but you said yourself that they shut down anyway on a couple of occasions.” 

“I honestly don’t know, Simon,” came the weary reply. “All I can say is that I’ll try not to use them, and if they do shut down again, I won’t be in any hurry to get them back. Incacha once said that a Sentinel will always be a Sentinel if he wants to be, but right now, without Blair, I really don’t want it.” 

As he ran his hand over his eyes, Jim didn’t see the look of sadness and sympathy Simon directed at his bent head, nor was he aware of the similar one on Megan’s face, but he looked up again at Simon’s next comment, noting with gratitude the understanding in the dark eyes. 

“Go home, Jim. Take a few hours to meditate, find your centre or whatever the heck Blair would tell you to do. And I’ll see you tomorrow, OK? But if you need to talk, call me, right?” 

“OK, Simon. And thanks. And you too, Connor,” and Jim stood, too exhausted to argue further and just needing to get back to the loft even as he hated the emptiness waiting there for him.  


\--------------------------  


**Blair:**  


Feeling tired but optimistic, Blair pushed open the door of his cheap two-room apartment located in a rather run-down area mostly frequented by students and impecunious singles. He had been back in Cascade now for several weeks, effectively hiding in plain sight although he had made no particular effort to conceal his presence should anyone – namely Jim Ellison - have wanted to track him down. Common sense told him that such an occurrence would be highly unlikely seeing as he had always intended to keep his head down whilst he got his position established and his life back on track, but a tiny and wistful part of him wished that his Sentinel cared enough to still be searching for him. 

Having said that, he recognised that his movements and whereabouts until now had been so far beneath the PD’s radar that only a natural disaster or unexpected coincidence would reveal him before he was ready to show himself. And with luck that shouldn’t be so very far off now. Smiling in satisfaction, Blair replayed the day’s events as he moved to the tiny kitchenette to make himself a fresh pot of coffee.  


\--------------------------  


Earlier that morning, Blair had faced his dissertation committee and successfully defended his alternative paper. The ‘Closed Societies – Thin blue Line’ paper had proved to be competent and well-written, thanks in part to Eli’s staunch support and guidance, even if it lacked the enthusiasm and flair evident in the original ‘Sentinel’ paper. However, it was still worthy of earning Blair his PhD, so he was more than grateful for that. 

He was well aware that the pressure exerted by Dr Stoddard and Jack Kelso on his behalf had convinced Rainier’s ruling body to reluctantly agree that he could submit the paper on the proviso that Blair swore not to take any further action against the university for its role in the previous dissertation fiasco. They had also requested that the defence and its outcome should effectively be _‘in camera’;_ something that Blair had been only too happy to agree to, since it was in his own interest to keep his new doctorate out of the public eye for the time being. Suffice it to say that even if the event had proved to be anticlimactic and far removed from Blair’s original envisioning of the circumstances surrounding the apex of his academic achievements, he was able to swallow his fleeting and superficial disappointment in favour of concentrating his mind on the most important goal in his life now – that of winning back his Sentinel. 

Nevertheless, one thing had really cheered him, and that was the reaction of his committee members after they had given him the good news. Although plainly uneasy at the clandestine nature of the whole situation, they had all shaken his hand in genuine congratulation for his achievement and wished him well in his future endeavours. 

“So, there you have it, my boy,” a rather smug Eli had said once they had taken their leave of the others and were making their way back to the older man’s office for a celebratory drink. 

“I knew that even that old duffer Professor Baldwin wouldn’t be able to find anything in your work to justify disagreeing with the rest of the committee. You should be proud of your achievement, Blair,” he continued, meeting Blair’s slightly subdued gaze with a perspicacious one of his own. 

“I know in your heart you always wanted to submit your ‘Sentinel’ paper, but life has conspired to make you into a realist. And your doctorate was well-earned and long overdue, my boy. You should have no doubts about that!” 

“I know that you must be feeling a tad resentful at having to finally sever your ties with Rainier after so many years of hard work and dedication on their behalf, but you can still pursue your other courses at Babcock College. The Dean has already confirmed that he’s looking forward to your enrolling there.” 

“Yeah, I know, Eli. And thank you. I really mean that,” Blair had replied, determinedly shaking off his transient sense of dissatisfaction. “If it hadn’t been for you and Jack, I don’t think I could have even contemplated following through with this. And you’re right. It’s a relief knowing that my path is clear to carry on studying my chosen courses even if ultimately I fail to gain employment at the PD. I can always use my ‘expertise’ on a self-employed consultancy basis.” 

“Well, as to that,” Eli had continued with a frown, “If they can’t see a good thing when it’s right in their faces, then they don’t deserve you, Blair! And I can always use a bright and competent assistant on my expeditions, so you can be sure I’ll contact you first when the opportunity arises...” 

And Blair had had to force his words of gratitude around the lump of emotion that threatened to choke him as he offered his mentor a rather watery smile.  


\---------------------  


Back in the present, Blair sipped his hot coffee and sank down into his ratty sofa, determinedly shrugging off any lingering sense of injustice in favour of contemplating enrolling in his intended courses in criminal psychology and forensic anthropology at the small nearby Babcock College. Although it was an unconscious reaction, Blair’s natural enthusiasm and love for academic pursuits was already asserting itself such that the young man’s demeanour was lightening by the minute. Indeed, for those who cared to look, the first traces of the naive and ingenious student Blair had once been were clamouring to break through his hard-earned cool and cynical exterior. 

And one would have had to have been a complete misanthrope to begrudge Blair his few moments of uncomplicated happiness. 

Automatically brushing at a few drips of coffee that had spilt on his old plaid shirt, Blair grinned a little at his choice of clothing. Although he had purchased a few better items after receiving his detective’s shield, he had left them behind in his closet at the loft and had returned to his customary thrift shop chic. In deference to Cascade’s notoriously inclement weather he had treated himself to a warm, good quality waterproof coat from the clearance section of a better-known store, and, being Blair, he had immediately donated his old one to a homeless man he spotted shivering in a doorway a couple of blocks down. 

At the brief recollection of his room in the loft, Blair took a few moments to study his surroundings dispassionately. The tiny space was sparsely furnished with a few basic necessities gleaned mostly from charity shops, but Blair had deliberately failed to personalise the place in any way. It was, after all, only intended to be a temporary residence until such time as he either found something better – and here he forced his thoughts away from the loft – or moved on altogether. After all, he was still carefully husbanding his remaining funds which would have to see him through the next few weeks at least, so he couldn’t afford to splash out on small luxuries. 

And during his and Naomi’s itinerant past they had been forced to travel light, possessions being considered an unnecessary encumbrance anyway. 

Having said that, Blair ruefully recalled the period during his early friendship with Jim when he had actually dared to think of the loft as home. He had begun to introduce small items and knickknacks, truly believing that he was welcome, only to have his dreams shattered when Jim had boxed up all his things and thrown him out. Even when he had moved back in after the Mexico episode, he had failed to unpack much of his stuff since he fully expected it to happen again at some point; no longer convinced of his place in Jim’s life. Instead he had stored the boxes in the basement of 852, joined later on by those containing his precious books and papers after clearing out his office at Rainier. It was to be hoped that Jim hadn’t thrown the lot out in a fit of pique over Blair’s leaving, but in all honesty Blair knew that he shouldn’t be surprised if that was the case. 

After all, the older man had always had issues with trust and abandonment, and hadn’t Blair done just that and confirmed his expectations? 

Determinedly setting aside that train of thought as ultimately unproductive, Blair concentrated instead on the present and what he intended to do to repair the damage if it was humanly possible to do so. Putting down his empty coffee mug, he reached for his enrolment forms, and carefully began to fill them in.   


\------------------------------  


**The loft, same afternoon:**  


At around about the same time as Blair began to fill in his paperwork for entry to Babcock College, Jim was prowling restlessly around the loft, thoughts and emotions unsettled as he tried vainly to find some sort of inner calm. The handful of aspirin he had chugged down with a bottle of water on arrival had finally dispelled the awful headache that had plagued him ever since his disastrous efforts at the Homicide scene that morning. However, the respite from actual pain did nothing to improve his temper as he recalled the day’s events with excruciatingly detailed Sentinel recall. 

He was well aware that he had made a fool of himself yet again as his senses grew more unruly, and was relieved that at last Simon had declared that he was pulling the plug on requests from other departments for Jim’s services. With a wry grimace, Jim concluded that his fears of being seen as a freak were now sadly justified, and it was his own fault. 

With the benefit of hindsight he knew that with Blair’s unstinting guidance, he had learned to control and use his senses to great good even if he had resolutely refused to acknowledge it publicly. Now, however, although the whole issue was an open secret within the PD at least, without Blair at his side the results of using his gifts were erratic at best, and time and again in recent weeks he had embarrassed himself by zoning; something that even Megan’s not-so-tender touches could prevent. 

All in all he profoundly wished that the senses would disappear again, and fanciful as it seemed, he was becoming convinced that some aggravating and fickle external force was preventing it as a punishment for his ill-treatment of his Guide. Frowning morosely, he imagined a disgruntled spirit-Incacha glaring at him in wordless irritation, just as he had in the jungle when Jim had failed to respond satisfactorily to his demands. 

As he continued to wander around, his hands seemed to fall unconsciously on the few articles and ornaments still decorating the loft’s surfaces, all of which had been placed there by his Guide in the earlier – and happier – days of their partnership. Abruptly realising what he was doing, Jim paused for thought and considered the reason behind his actions. 

When Blair had left him, he ruefully admitted that his first furious instinct had been to clear out every last trace of his erstwhile flatmate. However, after Simon had literally talked some sense into him, he had reconsidered, hoping that perhaps Blair might return at some point and the sight of his personal belongings still in place might convince him that he was still wanted and needed. Not only that, but they were bitter-sweet reminders of Blair’s much-missed presence which forced Jim to confront his true feelings for the younger man which he was only now prepared to acknowledge. 

It was true that the Sentinel in Jim required Blair’s presence to ground him, and the only real respite from spiking senses came when Jim could enjoy the gradually fading traces of Blair’s scent that yet remained in the young man’s clothing and the pillow which Jim clutched to him every night. 

On the other hand, Jim the man was astonished to discover that he now longed for the irritating non-stop chatter of the effervescent pre-Alex grad student. The grad student who had resolutely stood by Jim even in the face of ridicule and accusations of corruption. The grad student who had finally been forced to accept that Jim was oblivious to his sacrifices and too ungrateful to admit his dependency on his young Guide. The grad student who had died because of Jim’s mistakes and fear responses. 

And how Jim longed to hold that precious little body to him, now that Blair was beyond reach, perhaps for good. 

Suddenly Jim was assailed by a strong feeling that something was very wrong. Something that could have serious consequences for both himself and his Guide. Cursing his previous disregard for and hatred of all things supernatural, he cast his mind and senses out in an effort to pin down whatever had triggered the reaction. 

Seconds later, he was almost deafened by the shrill ringing of his phone, and he snatched it up barking, “Ellison!” 

Simultaneously noting the caller ID, he listened impatiently while Simon Banks explained his reason for calling Jim at home. 

“Look, Jim. I know I sent you home early to grab a few hours’ relaxation, but we have a situation in the downtown area. One of the bigger condemned hotel buildings is on fire, and it’s well known that there are a good few homeless people hanging out illegally in there. The fire services are doing their best, but frankly, they have no idea how many folks are still in the building, and they’re having real trouble controlling the blaze. Is there any chance that you can help? Even if the senses aren’t cooperating, your military training could be invaluable. What do you say?” 

“S’OK, Captain. No problem. Give me the address and I’ll see you there.” 

Less than two minutes later, Jim was sprinting towards his truck to barrel down Prospect, lights flashing and sirens blaring, and face set in an expression of steely determination as he raced to the scene of the conflagration.  


\------------------------  


At virtually the same moment as Jim was springing into action, in Blair’s apartment the younger man’s pen fell from nerveless fingers as he felt a similar instinctive realisation that something was threatening his Sentinel. Forcibly controlling his immediate panic reaction, he commanded himself to sit for a moment, drawing upon the inherent shamanic skills John Two Rivers had painstakingly revealed to him, in an effort to pinpoint the source of his disquiet. 

Within minutes his mind was filled with a vision of flames roaring from the shattered upper windows of a disused building, and the terrifying sight of his beloved Sentinel pushing through broken front doors to face smoke and fire in an effort to do his duty and protect the most vulnerable members of his tribe even if it should cost him his very life. And Blair knew exactly where he belonged. Right there at his Sentinel’s side, come what may.  


\----------------------------  


**Downtown Cascade, near the burning Excelsior Hotel:**  


Pulling up with a squeal of brakes just outside the police cordon, Blair dived out of his SUV and sprinted the rest of the way to the vehicles he could see which formed the impromptu command centre for the fire control and rescue operation. 

Coming to a breathless halt before a concerned-looking Simon Banks, he wasted no time in demanding where Jim was, completely ignoring the other man’s surprise and vexation at his unexpected presence. 

“Sandburg? What the _hell_ do you think you’re doing here? And what is it to you where Jim is? You couldn’t wait to leave him in the lurch months ago!” 

“I haven’t got time to explain my reasons to you now, Captain!” Blair snapped back with more spirit than Simon had witnessed in several years. 

“Suffice it to say that I know he’s in danger. Call it weird Sentinel voodoo shit if you want, but tell me where he is!” 

And reacting completely out of character at the commanding tone of the young shaman, Simon obediently pointed to the burning building saying, “In there. Jim insisted on going in despite the Fire Chief’s warning that the blaze was out of control. We lost touch with him a few minutes ago...” and that was as far as he got before Blair whirled around to sprint towards the side of the building, but not before shooting a glance of pure fury and frustration at his erstwhile boss.  


\-----------------------  


Inside the building, Jim was in trouble. He had managed to locate several homeless people on the lower floors and guide them to the nearest usable exits, but he knew that he was going to have to give up very soon. Although erratic, Sentinel hearing could still pick up the increasing creaks and groans of stress fractures caused through the gradual collapse of the upper floors where the blaze started, and the billowing smoke arising as a result of the jets of water attempting to quench the flames was quickly spreading through the whole building, making visibility and breathing more difficult by the second. 

Nevertheless, Jim was reluctant to give up his search although common sense, if not his heightened senses, told him there could be no one else left alive in the building. But just as he was about to make his way to one of the last remaining possible exit points, a thread of familiar scent caught his attention, and he stopped in his tracks. Blair! He was certain of it, and all his senses suddenly kicked in to confirm it. The tantalising hint came from down the smoke-filled corridor which led to one of the worst affected areas.... 

Breaking into a run, and dodging burning material falling from the ceiling like fiery rain, he pushed open a broken door – and spotted a body huddled in the far corner. A body dressed in Blair’s favourite old thrift store coat. 

With a sob of horror, because he could already tell that there were no signs of life in the small figure, he still lurched towards his goal, uncaring of the increasing heat and smoke. 

_Oh Blair! Oh no, baby, no! Why the hell were you here? And why didn’t I know?_ And he reached out a trembling hand to turn the body over – to find that it was a total stranger. 

Shocked beyond belief, Jim sat back on his haunches and stared for long moments at the dead man’s face, and then registered too late the cracking of a falling beam above and behind him. Even as he dived aside, the heavy timber struck him on the shoulder with agonising force, and with senses wide open, he zoned....  


\--------------------------  


As Jim fell into the zone which rendered him helpless and vulnerable, Blair was forcing his way through the half-open fire exit at the side of the building, to pick his way around smoke-filled and filthy, trash-strewn corridors and up the few remaining sound stairways. Although without the benefit of enhanced senses, he made his way with a surety arising from a natural instinct from deep within which seemed to guide his steps, and he was certain that he felt the shamanic wisdom of the ancients urging him onwards. 

And suddenly he was there. There in the same corridor which Jim had sprinted down minutes before, and pausing in horror in front of the broken and now burning doorway. 

“Oh Jim! Oh gods! Listen to me Sentinel. Hear my voice. Feel my touch!” and he fell automatically into Guide mode as his frantic hands clawed at the smouldering beam, scorching his palms, tearing his nails and straining his shoulders as he heaved the weight off and away from Jim’s supine body. 

Ignoring the smoke as best he could despite streaming eyes and clogging lungs, he cupped Jim’s lax face between his sore palms and kept up his words of encouragement, determined to rouse his Sentinel or perish with him. 

After what seemed like hours, but was in fact mere minutes, Jim finally came round, only to nearly choke from the thickening smoke, and barely able to make out the small figure crouched beside him through eyes almost blinded with tears. As all his senses reacted in agony, he curled up in a ball, clutching at his head, only to feel strong hands covering his, and he gradually made out a beloved voice guiding him through the sensory spikes until he could dial everything down enough to regain some semblance of control. 

“That’s it Jim. Listen to my voice. Dial everything down, Big Guy. I’m here. I’m not leaving you. Come on, Jim. Please man! The fire’s almost on us....” and Blair’s voice grew raspier still as he coughed deeply from the smoke invading his lungs. 

Somehow Blair managed to help Jim to his feet, taking a lot of Jim’s weight with his friend’s arm slung across his shoulders, talking all the time as he encouraged the older man to lean on him and let him steer them to the ancient fire escape he had glimpsed outside the broken window. 

Thanking all the powers that he could think of, Blair saw that the fire escape, although heavily rusted, seemed to be pretty much intact, and he pushed the broken panes of glass out before helping Jim to climb out and onto the shaky metal platform. 

Determinedly ignoring both his aching lungs and the frighteningly long distance to the street below, he climbed out alongside Jim and they both began to carefully negotiate the rickety iron steps to the platform on the next level. And that was where they were forced to halt, as the next section of ladder had completely fallen away. However, gazing dizzily downwards, Blair could make out the rescue teams working below, and knew they had been spotted. With a heavy sigh of relief, he allowed himself to sag a little, and pressed himself tiredly back against the wall. 

Now he was out of the building and his senses had settled down, once again grounded by Blair’s presence, Jim roused quickly, and took stock of their situation. He had been completely astounded to find Blair alongside him, but had no intention of questioning how or why until they were both safely back on the ground. 

“Come on, Chief. You’re slowing up. Are you OK?” and he wrapped an arm around the smaller man, who was now wilting rapidly as his adrenaline rush faded away. 

Coughing harshly, Blair nodded and whispered, “Yeah, man. Just too high up, you know?” and he smiled weakly as the fire service’s rescue hoist arrived alongside their now sagging metal perch. Although it was a tight squeeze, the fire fighter insisted that they both climb into the cage with him, because it was obvious that the platform was close to total collapse. Neither Jim nor Blair was about to argue with him, and moments later they were being lowered to street level where the EMTs awaited them. 

As the two men stepped out of the cage, arms wrapped around each other for support, Blair was peripherally aware of being surrounded by assorted rescue personnel and newspeople who all seemed to be applauding for some reason. But when he turned to question Jim about it, things suddenly seemed to become very distant as his vision tunnelled, and then everything faded to black.  


\---------------------  


**That night, Cascade General Hospital:**  


Jim sat beside Blair’s hospital bed, waiting patiently for the young man to open his eyes. After Blair had collapsed at the scene of the fire, both men had been taken to Cascade General Hospital to be treated for minor burns and the effects of smoke inhalation. However, although Jim had recovered quickly and had been officially discharged, due in part to his being able to dial down his senses with ease once more, he was loath to leave Blair’s bedside until his Guide was at least conscious and coherent. 

Jim acknowledged that what he really wanted was for Blair to agree to return to the loft with him, but he realised that too much had passed between them to make that option a certainty. Nonetheless, he could hope, and whatever else transpired, he was reasonably sure that Blair wouldn’t pass up a chance to talk to him. After all, the offer to actually discuss what had happened in recent months was surely too much of a novelty coming from the habitually tight-lipped Jim Ellison that Blair couldn’t fail to be curious. 

The doctor who had treated them both had expressed his pleasure at Jim’s rapid recovery, but was somewhat perplexed at Blair’s continued comatose state. He surmised – correctly – that the smaller man’s slower recovery from the effects of smoke inhalation was undoubtedly due to his lungs having been compromised by his earlier drowning, but could only suggest that perhaps Blair’s overall state of health was poorer than immediately obvious. 

Certainly Jim had to concede that the young man did look frail, lying pale and still in the hospital bed; oxygen tube in his nostrils and hands swathed in dressings covering the burns to his palms. However, he knew with a pang of guilt that Blair had looked far more fragile prior to leaving the loft, and was sure in his own mind that Blair was actually taking some time in recovering from the extreme stress that using his shamanic powers had placed upon his not yet robust body and soul. 

He smiled somewhat ruefully as he leaned forward to take one of Blair’s bandaged hands into his own, when his attention was distracted by the entrance of Simon Banks. 

The big man paused in the doorway as he gazed at Blair, his face assuming an unaccustomed gentleness as he pursed his lips, plainly unhappy at seeing his ex-junior detective still deeply asleep. To his eyes, the smaller man looked impossibly young and vulnerable, even though he knew that Blair had come through for his Sentinel yet again despite his misleadingly delicate appearance. 

“How is he, Jim?” he queried softly. “I’d hoped he’d woken up by now. Is he OK?” 

“He will be,” replied Jim with conviction, face lit by a soft smile. “He’s simply exhausted is all,” he continued, gently stroking the soft, undamaged skin on the back of the hand he was still holding, and totally unembarrassed at the action. 

Simon nodded understandingly, and looked on for a moment longer before saying, “You know, Jim, I never doubted that kid’s courage, even at the outset. I might have worried about his flakiness and his commitment to you, but turns out I was wrong about that too. He’s a good man, Jim.” 

“That he is, Simon. And it was never his loyalty that was in doubt. It was mine. I was just too wrapped up in myself to see it, and never ever gave him the benefit of the doubt. It amazes me now to think how long he stuck with me despite everything I threw at him. I just hope he’ll give me the chance to make it up to him now...” and he tailed off sadly, leaning forward to brush a stray curl off Blair’s forehead with his free hand. 

Moving forward to squeeze Jim’s shoulder comfortingly, Simon replied, “I really don’t think you’ll have any trouble on that score, Jim. His heart’s probably the biggest I’ve ever known. And he’s got more balls than almost anyone I’ve known also!” he added with a fond chuckle. 

“I’ll leave you in peace, but make sure you let me know as soon as he’s woken up and well enough to be discharged, you hear?” he continued in mock severity. 

“You got it, Simon. And I hope to be able to tell you that we’re going to talk, also. I want him back!” 

Nodding understandingly, Simon took his leave, and Jim resumed his patient vigil, still a little worried at his Guide’s continuing slumber, but feeling calmer than he could remember for many months past.  


\-----------------------  


It was the early hours of the following morning before Blair’s eyes finally flickered blearily open, to see a dozing Jim slumped in the hard chair beside his bed. He was immediately concerned at the pallor of Jim’s haggard and beard-stubbled face, wondering of the older man’s senses were still troubling him. 

Taking a few moments to work some moisture into his painfully dry mouth and throat, he was so grateful to see Jim’s eyes open to gaze at him. 

“Jim, man,” he croaked. “You OK?” and was shocked when the other man responded angrily, “Jeez, Sandburg! You’re the one lying in the hospital bed, and you want to know if _I’m_ OK?” 

Then, stricken with remorse at the flash of hurt that spread immediately over Blair’s features, he continued quickly, “Gods! I’m sorry, Chief. There I go again, opening mouth and inserting foot before I engage my brain! I didn’t mean to scold you, babe. It’s just that I’ve been so worried about you. You were sleeping for so long I was wondering if you were ever going to wake. I’m sorry...” and he took Blair’s hand in his again, gazing contritely into his Guide’s beautiful blue eyes. 

Puzzled by, but immensely grateful for Jim’s unexpected apology, Blair smiled gently as he licked his dry lips, intending to offer reassurance, when Jim suddenly reached for the plastic cup on the nightstand. Pouring a measure of iced water from the pitcher, he quickly added a straw and held it to Blair’s lips. 

“Sorry, babe. Here you go. You must be so thirsty. Take it easy, though. It wouldn’t be a very good idea to throw it back up again,” and he smiled softly, pleased at Blair’s answering grin around the straw in his mouth. 

After relishing several sips of the soothing water, Blair released the straw and lay back again, eyes hungrily roaming over his Sentinel’s face and body. 

Still croaky, he managed to whisper, “You never answered, Big Guy. Are you OK? Really? I’m so sorry I took such a long time getting to you in the fire. What did you zone on, man?” 

“Hey now, Chief, no apologies due from you! I’m just so grateful you found me, even if I don’t understand how you did. And as for the zone, well, let’s just say they’ve become a more regular occurrence recently, and entirely my fault.” He really hoped Blair wouldn’t press the subject, because he didn’t want to have to explain yet that it was the scent and sight of Blair’s old coat on that dead body that had set him off, so terrified had he been that his Guide had been sleeping rough and perished in the fire. Yes, he was sorry that the homeless man had died, but couldn’t help but be grateful that it wasn’t Blair. And he also knew that Blair would feel guilty about both the dead man and for unwittingly causing Jim’s distress, and that was the last thing Blair needed right now. 

He should have known that Blair would find something to feel guilty about though, and wasn’t really surprised when the other man spoke up, a look of dismay clouding his face. 

“Gods, I’m so sorry, Jim. I’d hoped that my leaving would have helped you. I mean, I knew you wanted your space back, and I was sure you didn’t need me for the senses any more. I’m so sorry I was wrong.” 

“And that’s enough of that, babe. You weren’t wrong – well – maybe you were, but you can hardly be blamed. I brought everything on myself, Chief, because I was so up my own arse,” and he grinned ruefully at Blair’s stunned expression. 

“But I don’t want to talk about that yet, babe. I mean, I _do_ want to talk – about everything – but not while you’re still stuck in a hospital bed. I’d like for you to come back to the loft with me once you’re discharged from here,” he continued a little diffidently. 

“I know I don’t have the right to ask, and I don’t expect you to move back in if you don’t want to, but I need to clear the air between us. There’s a lot I need to explain, and a lot I’d like to hear about you. You OK with that?” 

And he was vastly relieved when Blair nodded shyly in agreement. 

“If that’s OK with you, man, then yes. I mean, maybe not about moving back in again. We both need to be very sure about how that’ll work. But I’d like to talk. I want to hear everything about how you’ve been managing. 

“And I need to tell you what I’ve learned about myself since I’ve been gone,” he finished softly, eyes flicking nervously from Jim’s face to his lap, bracing himself for the snort of disdain he fully expected from the most recent version of Jim that he remembered. 

His astonished gaze shot back to Jim’s face, however, when the bigger man simply reached over and cupped his cheek, tilting Blair’s head back so he could look deeply into his Guide’s eyes. 

“That’s just what I want to hear, Chief. It’s my new resolution – to improve my communication skills,” and he chuckled ruefully. 

“Anyhow, on a lighter note, you realise you’re a hero now, don’t you?” 

Bemused at the change of topic, Blair blinked in surprise for a moment before fixing Jim with a quizzical gaze. 

Happy to go with the flow, intending to cheer Blair up, Jim continued. “I guess you wouldn’t know, since you passed out pretty soon after we got back down from the hoist, but there were a good few newshounds nosing around the scene. And one of them just happened to be our very own Wendy Hawthorne. While the medics were preparing you for transport, I gave her a quick exclusive. You got some pretty good coverage there on the six o’clock news, kiddo!” 

Blair’s reaction wasn’t exactly what he’d hoped for, although knowing Blair as well as he did, he shouldn’t really have been too surprised. 

“Oh man! Oh gods, I’m so sorry, Jim! The last thing I intended was to attract more unwanted publicity! Why aren’t you furious with me?” 

“Hey, Chief, do I _look_ furious to you? And I thought _I_ was the one who’d cornered the market on guilt!” Jim replied soothingly. “The whole Sentinel issue was an open secret in the PD anyway – I just didn’t want to hear it before. And if it becomes one in the public eye, well, so be it. It only works properly when you’re with me anyway, babe, but I realise now that it _is_ a gift – or should be. I only look like a freak when I’m out of control, and that doesn’t happen with my Guide at my side. So don’t worry, Chief. We’ll work everything out, and it’s about time, huh?” 

Completely dumbfounded, all Blair could do was nod in bewildered agreement, and was saved from further comment by the arrival of his doctor.  


\----------------------------  


**Later that morning, at the loft:**  


Jim unlocked the door of #307 and ushered Blair in with a careful but proprietary hand in the small of his Guide’s back. “There ya go, Chief”, he said. “You want to take a load off while I get us some coffee, or would you prefer a beer? I know it’s still a bit early, but I could do with one.” 

“Um, yeah, I could use one,” replied Blair softly. “But I can get it if you want...?” 

“Uh huh, no way babe! Your hands are way worse than mine, and they just have to be hurting. Do what the doc ordered for once, OK? And let me get the drinks!” 

Jim grinned affably at the smaller man to take the sting out of his words, and moved over to the refrigerator to retrieve two cold beers. Popping off the tops, he took them back to where Blair was seated on the couch, and sat down facing him on the coffee table. Offering the bottle to Blair he said, “Can you hold this OK, Junior, or would a glass be easier?” 

“It’s fine, Jim,” replied Blair, blushing a little in mild embarrassment. “It’s only the palms that actually hurt. I may have torn off a few nails and gotten a few blisters, but my fingers aren’t too bad. Which is a good thing I guess, otherwise I’d have some problems doing for myself,” he chuckled ruefully. 

Seizing the offered opening, Jim said quickly, “Well, if you want, Chief, you could always stay here for a few days. I’d like to take care of you if you don’t mind, and it’ll give us the chance to do plenty of talking. And if you want to go back to your place after, well, I won’t stop you, I promise!” 

Blair chewed his lip thoughtfully for long moments as he formulated his response. In truth, there was nothing he’d have liked more, but he was still wary. Having said that, Jim had already said that he didn’t have to stay if he didn’t feel comfortable. And looking around the apartment, he couldn’t help but notice that a few of his things were still in place, so perhaps Jim hadn’t wanted rid of him after all. 

Nodding decisively, he met Jim’s enquiring gaze and said firmly, “OK, Jim, and thanks. But this time I promise I won’t go over the week if it doesn’t seem to be working,” and he grinned wryly as Jim burst out into relieved laughter. 

“You got it, babe,” he gasped, having regained control of his merriment. “Now, I don’t know about you, but I could do with some decent food. That muck they served you at breakfast wasn’t fit for pigs – er, hogs, I mean,” he added, referring obliquely to Naomi’s penchant for calling cops ‘jack-booted pigs’. 

“And how is Naomi, by the way?” he enquired, knowing that Blair would be following his train of thought. 

“She’s fine, Jim, thanks for asking. She was really good to me. Well, we were good for each other, I think. I really needed her love and support, and I guess she needed to look after me. Sort of assuage her guilty feelings about releasing the diss. Whatever, we made up and helped heal each other.” 

“I’m glad, Chief. I know I was mad at the both of you, and said some really harsh stuff, but once I’d calmed down, I was really sorry you two were so unsettled. I always envied your special relationship, and I’m glad it wasn’t irrevocably broken. 

“Now, I just hope that we can mend ours, babe, because there’s nothing more important to me. And I _don’t_ just mean from a Sentinel standpoint, either. 

“Anyhow, I’m going to order in a pizza, OK? So you just chill there for a bit with your beer, and we’ll carry on with our talk after lunch, all right?” 

And he was nearly bowled over at seeing the first truly happy smile he’d witnessed for months lighting up Blair’s face. 

“Sure, man. I’m down with that,” the smaller man replied, lifting up his bottle in a toast to which Jim responded with alacrity.  


\------------------------  


Several hours later found the two men sitting side by side on the couch, both hitched round a little so they could look each other in the face as they talked. The pizza demolished and clean up done, Jim had grabbed a couple more beers and sat himself down next to Blair to continue their long-overdue talk. And he had been dumbfounded at what he had heard. Hand covering his mouth, he focussed on every word and expression coming from his Guide, his own face reflecting a mixture of sorrow, shame, awe and amazement as Blair’s tale unfolded. 

Once Blair finally wound down, and was somewhat nervously awaiting Jim’s response, the older man sighed deeply and rubbed both hands over his face before speaking. Looking up again and meeting Blair’s worried eyes, he began by saying, “So, you’re really a Doctor now, Chief? It’s no more than you deserve, Blair, but that other diss - all that working with Two Rivers – the whole Babcock College thing – it was all because of me? Gods! I don’t know what to say! I’m – I’m – in awe, babe. That you should think I’m worth it even after everything I’ve put you through! Shit!” and he tailed off, shaking his head in something that appeared to be way too close to disbelief and denial. 

However, before Blair could fear the worst, he shook himself determinedly and met his Guide’s eyes again. “OK, now it’s my turn, babe, and I only hope you can hear me out without jumping to the wrong conclusions, Blair, because the gods only know you’d be justified in doing so. First of all, I need to tell you why I pushed you away. And it wasn’t all simply because I was acting like an asshole, Chief. At least, not at first. 

“I admit, I really needed your help in the beginning, Blair, and because of that I would have agreed to anything. But I really hated the idea of being your study subject. And I grew to loathe the idea of the diss. I was amazed to find that I’d grown fond of you, and I wanted to find some way of keeping on working with you, but without the threat of the diss hanging over my head. And when you told me you had enough material for several papers but that you wanted to stay on the rollercoaster, I couldn’t have been happier. 

“But then you came under pressure to submit that first chapter. And I know I shouldn’t have read it, but I wanted to know what you thought of me. And I hated it,” and he held up his hand to stay Blair’s attempt to respond. 

“It’s OK, Chief. I understand now why you didn’t want me to read it. I mean, I’ve read the finished article now, and I have to say it’s brilliant, Blair. And it deserves to be published. All that scientific blurb in the first chapter was just that - blurb! I know that now. Just a necessary outline. But god, it hurt at the time. And I didn’t give you the chance to explain. You really nailed it when you talked about fear responses, babe. And it’s really galling to know that it was all for nothing anyway. After the initial hoo-ha, no one really gives a shit about my senses any more. It’s like you always said, babe. I have gifts, but I’m not Superman, and even my gifts are useless without you. 

“And I really hope I understood you properly when you said you thought you were my true Guide, Blair. Because I’m sure you’re right, and Incacha and John Two Rivers knew that also. One Sentinel, one Guide, right, babe?” 

And suddenly he was cuddling a sobbing Blair in his arms, holding him tightly while the smaller man cried in relief, hope and love, finally believing that Jim truly understood at last, and loved him too.  


\----------------------  


**Epilogue:**  


**Several weeks later. The loft:**  


Jim sprawled comfortably on the sofa ostensibly reading the sports pages of the local paper, but really enjoying the opportunity to study his Guide and lover, who was pacing up and down waving his free hand around as he carried on an animated telephone conversation with Naomi. 

Jim grinned at the younger man’s antics although he had tuned out the actual voices, wanting to give Blair some privacy. He was quietly proud of Blair’s vastly improved physical condition, having used the past few weeks since his Guide’s return to nurture and cherish the smaller man as much as he had been allowed to given Blair’s habitual stubborn independence. He was also well aware that much of his shaman’s continuing mental prowess was due primarily to the fact that they were now bonded. A true Sentinel and Guide pair in every sense of the word. 

As Blair’s appetite had gradually returned, he had put on a little much-needed weight, and although his New Mexico tan had faded, he had lost the peaked and hollow-eyed expression that had clouded his beautiful features. His eyes sparkled once again with enthusiasm and love, and the bounce was back in his step. 

Although worn somewhat shorter than in his pre-badge days, his hair was still a mop of unruly curls, shiny and soft once again, and pure heaven for Sentinel fingers to tangle in, as Jim well knew. 

Giving up on even pretending to read the paper, Jim sat back and simply admired his young lover, recalling vividly the day they made their pledge to one another.  


\-------------------------  


After the catharsis of their heart-to-heart talk and Blair’s cleansing and healing tears, the exhausted younger man had fallen asleep in Jim’s arms. Taking the risk that that he was doing the right thing, Jim had gently scooped up the lax body and carried Blair up to his own bedroom, where he had laid his precious bundle carefully down on the big bed. 

Gently stripping Blair down to shorts and tee, he tucked the still sleeping man under the covers, then stripped down to his boxers before sliding in beside him, spooning up behind the smaller body and tucking Blair snugly against him. Soothed by the gentle rhythm of Blair’s heart, he sank into a deep and untroubled sleep of his own. 

In the early hours of the following morning, Blair woke to find Jim smiling down at him, chin on hand as he propped himself up on one elbow. 

“Hey, sleepyhead, how’re you feeling this morning? You slept really well, babe.” 

“Uh, much better than yesterday, Big Guy, but – um – how did I get up here, man? I mean, I sort of remember falling asleep downstairs...in your arms...” he added, blushing endearingly. 

“Well, I wanted us both to be comfortable, and I needed to be near you last night, so I carried you up. I hope you don’t mind...” and this time it was Jim’s turn to blush, a trace of uncertainty in his eyes as he met Blair’s gaze. 

“Oh no! I don’t mind at all!” Blair hastened to reassure him. “It was nice. I felt warm and protected. I just don’t want to trespass in your space, you know? Impinge on your comfort zone.” 

“As to that, babe, I gotta say that I’ve never felt more comfortable. With you in my arms I slept better than I can ever recall, and my senses feel so settled. 

“I was sort of hoping to persuade you that, as long as you felt the same, this could be our permanent sleeping arrangement from now on,” and he was blown away by the sheer joy dawning on his Guide’s lovely face, lit from within by hope and love. 

Very slowly, giving Blair every opportunity to withdraw if he felt uncomfortable, Jim lowered his face to claim Blair’s lush lips in the gentlest of barely-there kisses. He was instantly addicted to the softness he found there, which contrasted with the slight scratchiness of Blair’s morning beard stubble, and revelled in the taste of the man which proved to be every bit as wonderful as he had imagined. 

Pulling back slightly, he studied Blair’s reaction, and was overwhelmed by the adoration evident in the younger man’s eyes, while Blair’s sultry expression and leaking pheromones were proof enough of his own desire. 

“Can I touch you, baby?” Jim whispered, flushing with pleasure at Blair’s shy nod of acquiescence. 

Carefully stripping his guide of his underwear, Jim gazed at the beautiful body laid before him, and with Blair’s wholehearted consent, began to explore and imprint his Guide on all his senses. 

Blair did his best to touch Jim also, but was hampered by the bandages on his burned hands. 

“S’OK, Sweetheart,” murmured Jim against the soft skin of Blair’s neck. “There’ll be plenty of time for you to reciprocate once your hands have healed, lover. For now, just let me do the work, OK?” 

And Blair let him.  


\----------------  


Some while later the two men lay face-to-face, both wearing identical blissed-out expressions, and limp and relaxed from their lovemaking. Although necessarily gentle and non-athletic due to their recent trauma, when Jim had finally entered his Guide both men were swept up into the blazing intensity of the bond, merging once again as had their spirit animals at the fountain, but this time with no risk of separation again in this life, and very possibly the next.  


\-----------------  


Just then, Jim came back to the present, aware that Blair was looking at him, eyes dancing with gentle amusement and love as he indicated with his free hand that Jim might want to listen in. With an answering grin, Jim dialled up his hearing to catch Naomi’s words as well as her son’s replies. 

“So, you really are better now, Sweetie? Why couldn’t you have let me know you were hurt? I would have come to you, you know...” 

“I do know, Mom, and I’m truly grateful, but after all I’d already put you through, I just didn’t want to worry you anymore. They were only very minor burns, and Jim was around to look out for me. He did a great job...” 

“Hmmm, so you say! But what about your studies now? I mean, I’m so proud of you for getting your doctorate, but are you really sure you’re doing the right thing by enrolling at Babcock? It sounds as if what you have in mind afterwards will be just as dangerous as being a cop!” 

“I’ll be fine, Naomi, I promise! And I’m really getting into this profiling stuff. I think I can really make a difference here, Mom. Do what John Two Rivers would want me to do – help people in whatever capacity I can. 

“And there’s another thing you should know, Mom. Something very important to me, and something I really hope you’ll be OK with.” 

“Now you’re really worrying me, Sweetie,” Naomi replied, with a touch of asperity. “Next you’ll be telling me you’re back with Jim...!” 

“Er, well, yes, as a matter of fact, Mom. We’re together – and I do mean together. I love him, Mom, and he loves me. We’re bonded, just as John wanted us to be. Sentinel and Guide.” 

A fairly long pause greeted his words, and Jim could easily pick up Naomi’s heavy sigh and quiet gulp as if she was trying hard not to cry. However, before Blair could get really worried, she spoke up, affection in her tone as she faced up to the situation with commendable restraint and courage. 

“I hear you, Sweetie. I really do. And I’m happy for you, as long as he’s good to you. Is he there, baby?” and when Blair replied in the affirmative, she continued in a much sharper tone, “James Joseph Ellison! I know you can hear me, so listen up! My son’s a good man, well worth taking care of, and not to be taken for granted again, you hear me? And so are you, Jim. A good man even if you’re adept at hiding it when you want to. I know Blair loves you, and I don’t want to upset him. Promise me you’ll stand by him from now on, and I’ll give you my blessing. What do you say?” 

Taking the handset that Blair offered him, Jim put every bit of sincerity he could into his reply. 

“I hear you, Naomi. And I agree. Blair _is_ a good man, far better than I deserve, without a doubt. But we’re committed to each other, and our bond is for life, I promise. It would give us both a huge amount of pleasure if you could see your way to giving us your blessing.” 

“Then you shall have it, Jim. I’m going to hang up now, because I’ve got plenty to process, and I can feel a visit to John Two Rivers coming on. Give my love to Blair, and tell him we’re good. I’ll call again soon, Jim. Take care of yourself ...Son!” 

“Thanks Mom, and you too,” and Jim smiled softly as Naomi terminated the connection. 

Holding his arm out to pull Blair in for a hug, Jim smiled into the faintly worried face turned up to his. 

“Its fine, baby. She’s given us her blessing, and told me to tell you she loves you and that you’re good. She’s off to do some processing with John Two Rivers, but says she’ll call back again soon. You OK with that?” 

“Yeah, man, I am. Thanks for talking to her, Jim. It means a lot to me that you two get on, and I’m so pleased she’s given us her blessing. I mean, I know we went ahead with our bond anyway, but it’s good to know she’s OK with it. Love you so much, man!” and he pressed his face into Jim’s shoulder as he hugged him hard. 

Just then, a whiff of cigars announced Simon Banks’ approach, so Jim pushed Blair away carefully as he smiled down into the deep blue eyes. 

“I think we’re about to get a visitor, babe. I can smell Simon’s cigars. Let’s hope he’s got some good news for us, huh?” and Jim moved to open the door just before the Captain could knock. 

“Jeez, Jim! After all this time, can’t you let me actually announce my arrival the normal way?” Simon grumped, even though both men knew the response was pure habit. 

“Sure, but where would be the fun in that?” responded Jim, grinning broadly at the taller man. “Come on in and take a load off, Simon. Coffee?” 

“Yeah, thanks Jim. Hey Blair, looking good, son. I gather you’re getting some good feedback for your coursework already.” 

Blushing a little with pleasure, Blair replied, “Yeah, thanks Simon. I’ve got to say I’m really enjoying the content, and have already covered most of the ground for the first part of the qualification. Now I just have to hope I can find a job where I can put it to good use. 

“I mean, it’s really good of you to persuade TPTB to let me ride with Jim again as an observer, but I know it can only be on a temporary basis. No more trying to stretch a ninety day pass into four years again!” 

“Ah, well, as to that, there’s something I have to tell you,” Simon replied, looking rather inscrutable. 

“Oh man, have they turned my application down after all? You know Jim’s going to need me if he’s to use his senses properly again! Don’t they realise that? And it’s not as if I’m expecting to be paid or anything!” 

“There you go, kid, jumping to the wrong conclusion again! How about listening to what I have to say first, OK?” and Simon pinned him with his most forbidding stare, even though he was well aware that it worried Blair not one whit. 

Returning with Simon’s coffee, Jim placed it in front of his Captain and pulled Blair down to sit beside him opposite their visitor, squeezing the smaller man’s arm comfortingly. 

“OK, Simon, out with it! We’re both on tenterhooks here, so quit enjoying yourself so much,” he said with a wry grin. 

Prolonging the moment a while longer by taking an appreciative sip of coffee, Simon finally put down his cup and began to explain the reason for his visit. 

“Well now, I’ve just come from a meeting with both the Chief and Commissioner, and I have to say that my tap dancing skills are as good as ever, luckily for you guys! 

“I explained that you wanted to ride along with Jim again as an observer, Blair, but they weren’t at all happy with that. Now, hold on and let me finish, kid!” he continued, seeing Blair’s mouth open to remonstrate with him. 

“Thing is, Jim, that now they know officially about the senses, they want you to be able to use them properly. I mean, we’re all well aware that you’re a damn good detective even without them,” and he leaned over to pat Jim’s knee in a rare demonstration of affection. 

“Having said that, in retrospect they realise how much good you did with Blair as backup, and how difficult working without him became in recent months, so they want to make sure you’re in the best position to do your ‘thing’ for the benefit of the PD. 

“They started by pretty much insisting that Blair withdraw his resignation so he could be your partner in the field again. But I explained what you told me about how Sentinels and Guides worked together, and that it was often different to how cop partners had to work. And I know you weren’t really happy about having to carry anyway, were you, Sandburg?” 

At Blair’s slightly abashed nod of confirmation, Simon grinned somewhat wolfishly as he said, “Well, it’s a good thing they liked the idea of employing a consultant profiler and forensic anthropologist then, isn’t it? As long as you finish your courses, they’ll consider offering you a permanent position. Of course, it’ll be on a part-time basis for now while you’re still studying, because you’ll be dividing your time between college work and riding with Jim. What do you say, kid? Or should I say ‘Doctor Sandburg?’” 

Blair’s face was a picture of delighted amazement as he was temporarily lost for words. 

“Hell, Simon,” joked Jim as he hugged the smaller man to him, “I think you’ve managed the impossible! Blair – speechless!” 

Elbowing his partner in the ribs, Blair stuck his tongue out at Jim before turning his radiant gaze back on Simon. 

“It’s...it’s _fantastic,_ Simon! Thank you so much! It’s better than I could ever have hoped for, man! Thank you...” and he jumped up from his seat to hug the much bigger man, who actually tolerated the gesture – for a few seconds, at least. 

“OK, OK, Sandburg, I get the message,” he growled with unconvincing irritation. 

“So, I’d better get on back to the PD and tell them their idea’s been well-received, huh? Come by the station tomorrow, and we’ll get the paperwork started, OK, Sandburg? Meanwhile, thanks for the coffee, guys, and see you in the morning,” and he stood up to go, satisfied that he was leaving two stunned but very happy friends behind him.  


\-----------------------  


For long minutes after Simon had left, Blair did his best to hug the stuffing out of his lover, his excitement palpable as he finally pulled back to say, “I can’t believe it! Oh Jim, it’s so great. Simon’s such a good friend, and I’m so grateful to him. It’s better than I could ever have hoped for!” 

However, his face fell slightly as he realised that Jim wasn’t grinning quite as widely as he would have expected, and his basic insecurity nudged at him again. 

“Um, you _are_ OK with this, aren’t you, lover? I mean, it is really what you want also isn’t it? You’re not just agreeing for my sake?” 

“Oh baby, no! It’s nothing like that!” Jim hastily assured him, cupping Blair’s worried face in his warm palms. 

“Look, sit down with me again, and I’ll try to explain. It’s just another of the reasons I was so awful to you before, Sweetheart, but nothing you did wrong.” 

Sitting back down and pulling Blair into his lap, Jim thought for a moment before speaking, needing to get his thoughts in order and to choose the right words to convince his lover once and for all that he really was OK with everything now. 

“See, it’s like this, baby,” he began. “All my life I’ve fought against doing what was expected of me, simply because I wanted to believe that life was what you made of it, and nothing and no one was going to dictate how I lived it. I guess most of it was due to my less-than-perfect upbringing. I mean, financially I was privileged, for sure, but Dad made life so difficult for me and Stevie that I rebelled from an early age. Stevie was more accommodating, so ended up as Dad’s favourite after all, although I have a feeling that, even after my senses became known, if I’d cooperated and done as he expected I would have had that dubious honour,” and he grimaced wryly at the thought. 

“Anyhow, once I’d abandoned the family home and business and joined the army, I was quite happy to make my own way up the ranks, until the Peru operation. 

“After the crash, when the Chopec found me and Incacha took me under his wing, I still refused to believe that destiny had any role to play in my life. The re-emerging senses were just another burden for me to bear, and I didn’t believe him when he told me I’d find my true Guide in the Great City. 

“And then you found me, Chief. I was so grateful, but determined to only use you until I’d either gotten rid of the senses, or had learned to control them myself. It took a long time until I realised that it wasn’t going to be so easy, if not impossible, and I was so mad! I took it out on you all the time, as if it was your fault! And then I had to go and fall in love with you. I realised I needed to keep you safe, and in trying to do so, I got you killed anyway. 

“Hell, Chief, you were my Blessed Protector long before I was yours!” and he chuckled a little wetly, gracing Blair with a small smile of rueful apology. 

“And then there was that damned diss. It hung over me like a thundercloud, and made me even antsier towards you. What I couldn’t understand was how you stuck it out for so long. I know now that it was for love, baby, and for that I’m truly grateful. 

“Anyhow, everything that was happening to me went against all my rigidly-held beliefs, but I finally came to realise that Incacha was right. There _was_ a real inevitability about every moment – every action – and my damned fear responses reacted accordingly. I didn’t _want_ to be controlled by Fate, destiny, what you will. 

“I’m just so sorry that you had to go through so much until I accepted the situation for what it was, and stopped fighting it. When you left me, it was a real wake-up call, babe. I finally got my head out of my ass long enough to realise what I’d done – what I’d driven you to do. 

“Then you came back and forgave me. And I no longer fear the inevitable, Sweetheart. I want you with me; my Guide always and forever.” 

And Blair, face wet with tears of love and understanding, reached up to kiss his Sentinel with every ounce of passion of which he was capable before whispering, “Forever and always, my Sentinel.”   


**The End.**


End file.
